What Price Faith?
by Fahrenheit451
Summary: Leo's family and faith are challenged when a mistake from his past comes home to roost.
1. Prologue

Author's Notes: This has a crossover element with LA Law. It's something I thought about as I watched John Spencer in reruns of LA Law a couple years ago.

Until now, I've been a little reticent to post anything I've written. No guts maybe, but beyond that, I really thought I was writing only for myself. But with John Spencer's death, I realized that part of his legacy lies in the imaginations of those who enjoyed his work. Thanks to my friend Deb who endured several re-writes, and endless discussions about TWW, who would do what, which way I should go with this story, and everything else in between. Thanks to Rowing Goddess (you rock) who agreed to Beta the original story, and to Regency (thanks for the encouraging words) who Beta-ed the rewrite. RG and Regency, I took your advice on a few things, incorporated several of your ideas, and decided to sink or swim with everything else. All of it is my responsibility/fault. Heh, heh! 

I'd like to take this opportunity to thank John Spencer. He was not only an incredible talent, but a humble, giving, gentle spirit. We were all blessed to have had the opportunity to watch his work, and though I was profoundly saddened by his death, I am also truly grateful for all of the "extra innings" he was granted. You and Leo (and one other special character) were the inspiration for all of this craziness. Godspeed, John.


	2. Ch 1 Who's There?

**Who's there?**

Leo McGarry had been at his desk for forty minutes, reading the same page over and over. "This can't possibly be right," he mumbled under his breath.

"Leo?"

"Yeah," he said distractedly, thumbing through the report, yet again.

"Leo?"

"Yeah, Margaret."

"Leo?"

"I'm sitting right here, Margaret," he reminded her as he kept reading.

"Leo?"

Leo finally looked up, "Margaret, what's the problem?"

"There's a guy out here."

"'Out here?'"

"In my office."

"Yeah, okay," he paused waiting for her to finish. "So does the guy have a name?"

"Um. I dunno."

"What do you mean you don't know?" She was staring right through him. "Margaret, are you all right?"

"He looks just like you."

"Margaret . . ."

"When did you and Josie get divorced?"

"Margaret, what is _wrong_ with you?" he said, his forehead a study in confusion.

"When did you and Josie get divorced?"

He pulled off his glasses and leaned back into his chair, "Josie's my sister, not my ex-wife."

"Okay. When did you and Mallory get married?"

"Margaret!" he growled.

"This guy looks just like you!"

"Margaret, I swear, if you don't explain what you mean, I'm going to . . ." Leo stopped short, then sat up straight. "Wait a minute, you say this guy looks like me, or just reminds you of me?"

"He's your twin, Leo!"

Slowly, a knowing grin replaced the scowl on Leo's face as he realized who was standing in Margaret's office. "Tommy?" he shouted toward the open door as he threw his glasses on the desk. "Tommy, get in here!"

A duplicate of Leo's face peeked around the door. "Hey, Leo! What the hell are ya up to?"

"Getting ready to have my assistant committed for losing her mind on the job," came the reply as Leo pushed away from his desk and covered the distance between them quickly. "It's good to see you," he said as he drew Tommy into a bear hug.

"It's great to see you too, Leo," he returned the embrace. "I was worried about ya there for a while." Tommy whispered, "You can't keep tempting fate like that. Someday you're gonna get burnt."

Leo shrugged, "Guess it wasn't my time."

Tommy held Leo at arm's length, studying his face, looking for cracks in the armor. "I guess so. But you better hang around a little more with them cats of yours. Ask 'em to share some of them lives they got."

"Yeah, well, they hardly know me any more," he admitted. "Here, let me have your jacket." Tommy slipped the visitor's pass off over his head, then slid the pull-over jacket off and handed it to Leo. As he moved toward the coat tree next to the closet, Leo continued, "You know you really rattled Margaret, which I didn't think was possible. She came in here asking me when I divorced Josie."

"Josie? Leo, after all these years," Tommy grinned. "When were ya gonna to tell me ya married your sister?"

"Gets worse, 'cause then she asked me when I married Mallory!"

"Your sister _and_ your daughter? Cad," he winked.

"I'm telling you, you nearly scared her to death. I think she was on the verge of losing it," Leo laughed.

"Well, she wasn't the only one who nearly lost it. I had to pull my ID out four times before they'd let me past the front security check-point. Then they followed me all the way here."

"A little confused as to why I checked into the building at six this morning, never checked out, and was standing in front of them telling them my name was Tommy Mullaney?"

"Somethin' like that."

"Yeah, well."

Margaret had witnessed their exchange and thought it eerily familiar, though Leo's verbal sparring partner was normally the President of the United States. Looking for an explanation, she interrupted. "Ahem, excuse me, Leo?"

"Oh yeah, sorry, Margaret. The name of the guy who looks just like me? Tommy Mullaney, my cousin."

"He looks just like you."

"I've heard. You can go now."

"How could your cousin look just like you?"

"Freaks of Nature," Leo answered.

"Hey, who you callin' freaks?" an indignant Tommy complained.

"Our parents."

"Oh," he stopped. "Yeah. Okay."

"All right, then. Well, that explains that," she added sarcastically. "I guess if you need me I'll just be over here."

"Go, do a job would ya?"

"Oh, like I haven't been doing that for decades," Margaret mumbled as she turned and went back to her desk.

"She's pretty funny, Leo."

"Yeah, a whole barrel of laughs." As Leo finished hanging his cousin's jacket, the door to the Oval Office opened. Jed Bartlet stepped through, carrying what appeared to be a file with several reports attached. Not noticing Leo behind him, he walked to the front of the desk where Tommy was standing.

"Leo, I need you to give me those figures on the Walker Bill again. I don't come up with the same . . ." He looked up from the papers he was carrying and pointed, "What are you wearing?"

Tommy glanced down, and then toward Leo who just shrugged his shoulders. "Um, clothes."

"When did you change into a sweater, Leo?"

"Well, Sir, truth be known, I'm not . . ." he tried.

"Leo, you never wear sweaters . . . I mean, you wear sweaters, but you're never in casual clothes during the day." The President looked at Tommy who was shaking his head, trying hard to come up with a logical explanation. "Oh, forget it. What are the figures as you see them?"

"Well, Sir, um . . . I'm not sure," Tommy replied as he tucked the visitor's pass into his pants pocket.

"What do you mean you're not sure?"

"Have I ever seen those figures?" he answered, quickly skimming the papers in the President's hand.

Jed Bartlet stared at Tommy over the top of his glasses. "This _is_ the report you handed me less than an hour ago, right?"

"If you say so, Sir."

"Leo? Are you all right?"

"Well, I do feel a bit out of . . .," he stopped and shot a quick look at Leo. "Well, yes Sir, I guess I'm okay."

"Leo, if you're not feeling well, maybe you should go home."

"Oh no, Sir. I'm sure I'll be back to normal in a few minutes." Leo's grin was all the encouragement Tommy needed.

Margaret returned with a letter in her hand, and was soon joined by Josh, who stopped next to her and Tommy. "What the hell?" he glanced at Margaret, who just shrugged her shoulders.

Looking at the four of them, Leo could barely contain himself. He was having way too much fun with this. He motioned for Margaret to keep quiet, and true to her nature, his assistant immediately picked up on her boss' signal. You don't work with a person for as long as they had worked together without developing a bit of a short-hand, she thought. Margaret turned to Tommy and began, "Um. Leo. I need you to sign this for me."

Josh tried hard not to stare at either Tommy or Leo for too long. He didn't know who this guy that looked like Leo was, and wasn't sure exactly what was going on, but had caught Leo's signal as well. He put on his best "I don't have a clue" face, knowing that Margaret of all people wouldn't do anything to anger their boss . . . unless, of course, it was absolutely necessary. This didn't appear to be one of those times, and since he certainly didn't want to spoil the fun they seemed to be having, he simply observed.

"What is it, Margaret?" Tommy questioned.  
_  
Bless his soul,_ Leo thought, _Tommy was always such a quick study._ Of course, he'd had a lot of practice. They had both been doing this since they were little kids.

"It's the letter you dictated to me this morning. Remember, you asked me to type it up to send to the Appropriations Committee?" Margaret replied. "You need to sign it."

"Oh, yeah, um, okay. Margaret, are you sure you want me to sign that?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah, I'm sure. Are you sure?" she questioned.

"Well, no. Not really." Forgery wasn't really his strong suit and signing this paper could be misconstrued if it ever got out of the room.

Jed peeled off his glasses and waved them at the man in front of him. "Leo, what's going on? I mean, have you had a brain transplant or what?"

"Well, sort of . . . I, um, guess . . . in a manner of speaking, Sir," Tommy admitted.

Toby and C.J. walked into the Chief of Staff's office just in time to hear the President in full shout mode. "For God's sake, Leo! What the hell is wrong with you?" he bellowed.

The First Lady had been listening to the growing ruckus through the door, and joined Leo from the Oval Office. She immediately picked up on the game when she saw both Leo and Tommy together. Leo glanced over at her as he held his hand over his mouth, trying not to laugh out loud, the tears brimming in his eyes threatening to pour out at any moment.

As the confusion continued unabated, Abbey whispered into her friend's ear, "If you don't stop this soon, he's going to stroke-out!"

"Okay, okay," he replied. "I'll see what I can do." Leo slowly made his way over to his best friend. Standing slightly behind and to the right of the President, he picked up on the conversation and waited.

"Leo, what has gotten into you?" A thousand things ran through the President's mind, but what came out was only slightly inflammatory. "You haven't received any 'special,' unsolicited brownies or anything like that have you?"

Tommy thought for a moment, and then realized what the President was insinuating. "Oh no, Sir," he said innocently as he glanced at Leo, who was now standing directly behind the President. "Besides, I always have Margaret try out anything I receive from unsolicited sources, just to make sure. If she doesn't get the munchies, I figure it's okay." Tommy could tell that the man standing before him was on the verge of ordering him for a psychiatric exam, so he decided now was the time to give him a reason. "I mean, that's part of why she's my assistant, right? Like Medieval times, the person who tastes everything for the King, ya know, just in case it's drugged. Or poisoned?"

"LEO!"

"Sir, you don't have to shout. I'm right here," Leo advised from behind.

Jed spun around and came face-to-face with his Chief of Staff. The room erupted with uncontrolled laughter as the President looked between the two "Leo's." Knowing that he'd been had, Jed's face broke into a lopsided grin as he turned back to the man he'd been addressing. "Tommy. Damn you. You just stood there and let me go on and on, didn't you?"

"You've always been very good at goin' on and on, Mr. President," he laughed. "As far as I'm concerned, Sir, there's none better."

"Uh huh. And you!" Jed scolded as he turned back to Leo. "My supposed best friend. You just stood back there enjoying my frustration, didn't you?"

"Why yes, Sir, I did." There were very few instances lately where Leo had a clear upper hand on the President, which made this little exchange that much more enjoyable.

"You're lucky I didn't have a stroke right here on the spot. That would have fixed your wagon, wouldn't it?"

"Oh yes, Sir. Fixed indeed."

Abbey had been observing the scene in front of her with great amusement. As she moved toward her husband, she interjected, "Leo, part of your staff looks slightly dumbfounded. Perhaps you should explain who this is, and why Jed may have mistaken him for you."

"Yeah, I suppose you're right. Josh Lyman, Deputy Chief of Staff, Claudia Jean Cregg, C.J., White House Press Secretary, Toby Ziegler, White House Communications Director. You've already met Margaret. Everyone, this is Tommy Mullaney, my cousin."

"He looks just like you," Margaret reiterated.

"You really think so?" Tommy asked with a side-ways grin. "I think I'm much better lookin' than him." Leo rolled his eyes, a look that suggested this wasn't the first time he'd heard that remark. Tommy sighed, "Well, at least I'm younger."

"Yeah, by a whole five minutes," Leo scoffed.

"Five minutes is five minutes."

"Mmm hmm. So the next question my staff has for us is how can we be cousins and look exactly alike?"

"Yeah, not like it's the first time _that _question's been asked, is it, Leo?"

"Tommy? You want to explain? Or do you want me to give them your standard answer and ask, 'Ever seen _The Patty Duke Show?_'"

"Well, it was just like our life, wasn't it Leo?" he tried.

"Not even close. That was a television show, this is reality."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay, so it's like this," Tommy turned his attention back to the staff. "My mom and Leo's mom were twin sisters, and our fathers were first cousins to each other. Not with our mother's family of course, but you know, of another family. A family in the same neighborhood as theirs. I mean it wasn't incestuous or anything like that. I mean, well, ya know what I mean." Tommy grinned, "And rumor has it, both Leo and I were conceived on the same night."

Leo shrugged his shoulders at his staff. "Quirks of Nature."

"Now our parents were quirks?" Tommy asked.

"I told you, the parents were freaks, we're the quirks."

"Got it." A look of mischief came over Tommy's face. "'Course, there's always the story that one of our fathers may have dallied that fateful evening."

"Tommy!" Leo admonished.

Jed had seen enough. "You two are obviously having a great deal of fun with this. Why don't I come back?"

"No, Sir," Leo shook his head, "it's okay. I was looking at the same report just before you came in, so I think that I can answer any questions you have without too much of a problem. Should only take a few minutes. I hope."

"All right then, let's step into my office." He turned to his wife, "Abbey?"

"I'm going to stay and chat with Tommy for a few minutes," she said.

"You sure you want to do that, Abbey?" Jed asked. "After all, he tried to impersonate a high ranking government official."

"Beggin' your pardon, Sir, but you were the one who _assumed_ that I was a high rankin' official. Couldn't help but play along you know."

"Yeah, yeah. Okay." Jed faced his amused Chief of Staff, "Leo shall we?"

Leo turned on his heel and made a grand gesture, waving his hand, "After you, Sir."

"Write if you find work, Leo," Tommy called behind him.

Tommy's cousin grinned over his shoulder as he disappeared into the Oval Office. "Whateva," Leo responded in his best Boston accent.


	3. Ch 2 Getting to Know You

**Getting to Know You**

"So, Mr. Mullaney, what was it like to be so close to Leo as a kid?" Josh started.

"Please guys, it's Tommy," he flashed a familiar smile. "From the moment we were born, Leo and I were inseparable. People thought we were twins and that was okay with us. I mean he's wasn't just my cousin, ya know. He was my best friend. See," he continued, "my dad was a drunk who liked to take his anger out on me and my baby brother. Leo was the only one I could talk to about it."

"You never told anyone else?" C.J. asked.

"Tried once. Told my third grade teacher, Sister Mary Margaret. She said she didn't believe me, but she musta told my old man what I said 'cause when I got home that night, he was drunk and waitin' for me. He beat me so bad I ended up in the hospital. He said that if I told anyone what he'd done, he'd kill me." A sad look crossed Tommy's face. "I was nine years old. I never said a word to anyone except Leo after that."

Abbey put a sympathetic hand on Tommy's shoulder. "I never knew. I'm so sorry."

"Yeah, well," Tommy smiled wistfully as he put his hand on hers. "By the time you and I met, I had put it as far back in my mind as I could get it. And I mean, it wasn't like I spread around back then either."

"Still . . . it must have been difficult," she sighed.

"Well, not so bad if we could make it to the park and climb the big maple tree there to get away from him . . . Yeah, it was pretty bad." He took a deep breath and continued. "Anyway, Leo and I were only eleven when we got into real trouble for the first and last time. Spent a couple of nights in juvie. And boy, did we ever catch it when we got home!"

"Your dad lit into you again?" Abbey ventured.

"Worse than that . . . Mom. She started in on us about how it had embarrassed her and my Aunt Kathryn, how the other moms were all laughing at the cop's kid and his idiot cousin gettin' into trouble. We were grounded for months, had extra chores, couldn't go anywhere, couldn't hang out with our friends, nothin', just school and home."

"I can't imagine our Leo getting into that much trouble," commented Margaret.

Tommy laughed, "You shoulda seen everything we got into before that," he paused, considering. "Actually, it was mostly me, and I dragged Leo into a couple of things." Tommy finally admitted, "'Course most of the time, he was really just tryin' to save my ass."

"So has he always looked out for other people? I mean, back when he was young, even then he was taking care of others," Josh marveled.

"Yeah, even then," Tommy smiled. "Ya know, I always looked out for my baby brother, to keep him away from Pop, but Leo was the one who took care of everybody else, includin' me." He wrapped his arm around Abbey's shoulder, "And then of course, we got into those awkward teen years, which for Leo," Tommy laughed, "still haven't ended."

"I wouldn't let him hear that coming from you!" she joined in, eliciting chuckles and nods from all of Leo's closest aides.

"Anyway, when Uncle Thomas died, Leo kinda checked out for a while, if ya know what I mean. Got a bit distant with everyone, includin' me. I guess he didn't want me pryin' into what happened. And when his family moved to Chicago to be near Aunt Kathryn's brother, it tore me and Leo up. We were fifteen years old and had never been separated for longer than two or three days at a time in those fifteen years. For a while, we stayed in close touch, we'd see each other when we could. I went and visited a couple times, but we were a thousand miles apart. Wasn't like it was around the corner or anything." Tommy fell silent as he remembered that life-altering time.

"What happened then?" C.J. asked.

"Well, fortunately for all of us, that's when Leo went away to finish high school at some place . . . I don't remember . . . oh yeah, some old boarding school where he just happened to meet a guy named Josiah Bartlet. Musta been fate and all that. I mean, Leo and I had just been separated, and without soundin' too self-important, Jed filled a huge hole that I left in his life. At the time, I wondered what in the world God had in mind when he brought those two together. Guess now we know."

"Isn't it strange?" mused Abbey. "One of the worst moments in Leo's life led to some of the best."

Tommy nodded, "A few years later, we all graduated, went off to college, Leo to Michigan, me to UCLA, and well, we all know where the President went."

"Why UCLA? I mean, you went into the Navy, didn't you?" Abbey clarified.

"Yeah, I did the ROTC thing and was commissioned as a Lieutenant in the Navy right out of college. It was the only way I could pay for college and I figured I'd get drafted eventually anyway. As far as UCLA goes, I went there because it was about as far away from my father as I could get."

"Well, that and Vietnam," Abbey added.

"Yeah," Tommy chuckled. "Anyway, I became a SEAL, and was sent to 'Nam and put in charge of a bunch of guys fresh from training."

"SEALS in Vietnam," asked Charlie, who had joined the group.

"Are you kidding? They sent us guys up the Mekong first, before they sent in the back-ups, you know, jet-jocks like Leo."

"Tommy this is Jed's body man, Charlie," the First Lady introduced. "Charlie, Tommy Mullaney, Leo's cousin."

"I'm sorry, Mr. Mullaney. I guess I forgot, or maybe I just didn't realized how important the waterways were in the effort," he admitted

"It's okay, Kid. Most days I try to forget too. And call me Tommy," he added.

"I don't mean to harp on this," Margaret continued, "but you two are exactly alike. I mean, you sound alike, except for a little bit of an accent, you have the same smile, you both walk the same, you even have the same limp!"

"Yeah, Leo got his gettin' shot up in his jet and breakin' his leg after bailin'. I got mine from a ruptured Achilles. We were on a mission, and I took a strafing bullet right through the heel. Just about drowned before I got outta there. Got separated from my squad and had to wait for two days before they could come get me. Kinda messed me up pretty good, in more ways than one. In fact, I tried to forget it by getting a little drunk one day. It lasted two months."

The staff all stared at Tommy wondering the same thing. They thought it too much of a coincidence that these two men, who looked so much alike could have that in common as well. Leo's drinking and drug problems weren't secrets after all.

Tommy saw the looks. He shrugged and grinned, "Yeah unfortunately, Leo and I both fell into the deep end of that gene pool. I'm a recovering alcoholic too. Haven't had a drink in over twelve years though, ever since I found out about my oldest son, got remarried to my ex-wife, and she got pregnant again. I promised myself to never do to my kids what my Old Man did to me and my little brother."

"How are those kids anyway?" Leo interrupted as he returned from the Oval Office.

"You finally get the President straightened out?" Tommy asked.

"Yeah. It took longer than I expected, but you know how that goes."

"Well, he is gettin' older," Tommy observed.

"Please don't let him hear you say that," Leo grimaced. "Abbey, the President would like you to step back in." As she passed her friend, he caught her by the arm and whispered, "Something about a 'special garment.'"

She smiled and cocked her eyebrow. "Really?"

"Yep," he grinned.

"Okay then, see you later." She whispered back, "Much later."

"Mmmm. Have fun." Turning his attention back to his staff, "All right everyone. You can talk to Tommy later," he advised. "He and his stories will be here all week."

"Good to see you didn't lose your sense of humor in there, Leo."

"Some days I wonder," he admitted.

C.J. spoke for the group. "Thank you, Leo. Tommy, it was nice to meet you."

"You too. Maybe I'll see you later."

The staff quickly filed out of Leo's office, leaving the two cousins alone.

"So, you didn't answer. How are the kids?"

"Growin' like weeds. T.J.'s fourteen next month, Connor and Kevin turned twelve last week, Patrick is ten, and Erin is a precocious eight and-a-half, going on thirty."

"What about Casey? Do you still get to see her?"

"Yeah, Roxanne and I talk a couple times a month and she lets me know when they're gonna be in town. I call Casey every week though, and she has standing orders to call me whenever she wants. She loves talkin' with T.J. too, and Erin loves talkin' to her big sister. You know, she's just turned thirteen, but I hope that when she's a little older Rox will let her fly out on her own ta see us."

"That'd be nice."

Leo knew how much Tommy's life changed when Casey came along. A former co-worker, Roxanne Melman had wanted to share her life with a child and had asked Tommy to help by fathering that child. He was more than surprised at the request, but she made her case and, although it took a while to agree to help his friend, he finally acquiesced.

Tommy was admittedly little more than a sperm donor when his daughter was conceived, but he had grown to care a great deal for Roxanne and the unborn child she carried. Their initial alliance developed over the months into a respectful, loving, caring relationship. However, after a visit from his abusive, alcoholic father ended in his own not-so-graceful fall off the wagon, Tommy concluded that he had no faith in his ability to be a good husband, a good father, or to even stay sober. Above all, he wanted to protect his child from having to deal with a drunk as a father.

His daughter Casey was nearly five months old before Tommy saw her for the first time. Roxanne had asked if he was willing to surrender parental rights to Casey so that her new husband could legally adopt their child. But after he held that child and looked into her eyes, Tommy begged Roxanne not to shut him out, to let him be Casey's father, a real father who could read her bedtime stories, help her with homework, someone that she would love, not just because he was her biological father, but because he would be there for her throughout her life. Roxanne admitted that she'd been angry and hurt that Tommy walked away from them when they needed him most. But as she listened to him make his case, she became convinced of Tommy's sincerity and agreed to let him be a part of Casey's life.

Tommy hadn't known it at the time, but she was actually his second child. T.J. was almost a year old when Casey was born. His ex-wife Zoey became pregnant when Tommy was taking care of her as she recuperated after a shooting at the L.A. County Courthouse. Tommy had called his cousin immediately after the incident had occurred and told Leo about a man named Meachum, who had contracted AIDS while in jail. After parole, he had no money for treatment, so he assaulted his parole officer in an effort to be sent back to prison in hopes they would take care of his medical needs. When the parole officer was ordered to drop the charges because the State "didn't want him dying on their dime," he sued both the State and the prison guards for allowing his cell mate to sexually assault him, knowing the offender carried the AIDS virus. When the jury found for the State, Meachum went crazy, shooting everything in sight, including Zoey. She nearly died on the spot.

The day she was released from the hospital, the Rodney King verdict was televised. With the Los Angeles riots in full force, Tommy and Zoey shared the realization that life was too short to waste time. She admitted to Tommy that night that she had perjured herself on the witness stand in Meachum's case, and felt guilt over the verdict. She was on her way to see the judge and admit her crime when the shooting started. Zoey felt responsible for what happened and thought she deserved getting shot.

After surgery, she had spent many long hours staring at the scar on her chest as the physical evidence served as a daily reminder of her mistake. That night at Tommy's house, she asked if he wanted to see the damaged shoulder. When he said 'Yes," she cautiously removed the bandage that covered the slowly healing wound. As Tommy stood and lightly kissed the scar on her chest, it was if the weight of the world had been lifted. He looked longingly into her eyes and slowly pulled her into a tender kiss. They ended up making love all night long, a gentle, deliberate love making that came from a deep and abiding affection they had never lost for one another.

Zoey's entire life had changed the day of the shooting. Her recovery was slow and arduous, as she spent hundreds of hours in rehab. She made it all the way back, eventually returning to work. But after just a few short weeks, Zoey decided she could no longer work in the District Attorney's office. She also knew that she needed to get away from Los Angeles and everything about it, including Tommy. She loved him and knew her leaving would hurt him deeply, but she couldn't give her heart to him fully until she was sure of herself again.

Tommy had gotten angry with her when he found out she was leaving, but by the time she actually left that night, he had made his peace with her. He sent her off with a blessing, with select items "straight from the mini-mart." As he handed her a donut, he said, "Bread, so that you will never know hunger;" a packet of salt . . . "Salt so that your life will always have flavor," and grape juice, "Wine so that you will know joy and prosperity." When she kidded him about the grape juice substituting for wine he said simply, "So it's a young wine . . ." As they hugged goodbye, she told Tommy that she would always love him.

Shortly after leaving Los Angeles, Zoey discovered she was pregnant. She thought over and over that Tommy should be told, but she hadn't wanted to burden him with the responsibility. When they finally found each other again, she admitted that Thomas James Mullaney existed. That's when Tommy made two life altering decisions: he asked Zoey to marry him again, and though he was already well on his way, he vowed to quit drinking for good, one day at time. She said yes, and he hadn't had a drink in more than twelve years.

Of course, Leo knew that Tommy had never really gotten over Zoey after they divorced. He always suspected that it was because Zoey had been the first person in Tommy's life other than Leo to love him unconditionally. She taught him that love didn't come at the expense of a closed fist, or at the end of a belt. Tommy learned that true love meant he could argue without hitting, disagree without hating, love without fearing.

Shaking his head, Leo asked, "So how's Zo doing Tommy?"

"She's great. I'm really lucky," he admitted.

"Yes, you are. You got a second chance."

"And I'm takin' full advantage of it!" He was grinning from ear to ear, almost as if he had some great secret that he was bursting to share. Tommy saw how his cousin was staring at him. "What?"

Now it was Leo's turn to grin. "Zoey was always too good for you."

"Don't I know it?" They sat in silence for a few moments before Tommy continued. "You know I wasn't really kiddin' about one of our dads being both our fathers."

"Tommy," Leo sighed.

"No, really. I got to thinkin' about it a few years back. Pop came to see me just before he died. Tryin' to get absolution for a lifetime of wrong he did me, and Mom, and Jimmy I guess. I thought then from some of the things he said that maybe your dad was my dad too. Maybe that's why my Old Man hated me so much, why he beat me all the time. Hell, maybe that's _really_ why my name is Tommy."

"Does it really matter all that much now?"

"It would help me make sense out of some things. I hated him for what he did to me, to Jimmy. But as abusive as he was, I would have given everything I had just to hear him say that he loved me, that he was proud of me . . . He never did."

"I know," Leo said quietly, finally realizing that it didn't matter who Tommy's father was, and what did matter was that he needed to find peace. They sat in silence, lost in their own thoughts.

Taking a deep breath, Leo finally asked, "So what brings you to D.C., Tommy?"

It took a moment for him to come out of the reverie he was in. "Came to see ya, ask ya for some help. You know the Clemmons thing you're workin' on?"

"Yes, I've been looking at it for over a month. Why?"

"It's Zoey's brother."

"Ah, dammit, Tommy," Leo groaned.

"I know what you're thinkin', Leo. But the guy didn't do it, and I'm representin' him."

"Then we can't talk about this," he concluded.

"Yeah we can, 'cause you're gonna be a witness for the defense."

"No way."

"Yeah."

"No. Way," Leo emphasized.

"Come on, Leo. You know he's innocent,"

"Knowing and proving are two different things."

"That's my job not yours."

"You realize what this is going to do? It's going to put me into an impossible situation. It could cost me my job. Tommy, it could cost me my family, including you!"

"Leo, if you don't testify, he could go to jail for the rest of his life!"

"It won't come to that."

"You don't know that."

"Yes, I do."

"No you don't, and I'm not willing to bet his life on it!"

"Stubborn bastard."

"Yep, just like my cousin. You gotta testify Leo, you just gotta."

"No."

Eyeing Leo more closely, he pointed accusingly at the now closed door to the Oval Office. "You won't testify because of_ him_. That's it, isn't it?"

"Tommy . . ."

"Come on, Leo. You wouldn't let an innocent man go to jail 'cause of your friendship with him would you?"

"It's not that simple, Tommy. This is much more complicated, and you know it. Clemmons has friends who are bad news and have been for over twenty years. They're bad news for me, bad news for you too!"

"I'm not defending his friends." Quieter he added, "He's Zoey's brother, Leo. And I'm not willing to let him go down without a fight."

The door leading to the Oval Office opened, "Leo I forgot to ask . . . " Jed stopped when he realized Tommy was still in the room. "Oh sorry, I didn't know that you were still . . ." he noticed the tension that had manifested itself. "Hey," he tried, "are you two catching up on things?" Neither of the them answered the President.

"Leo?" Tommy asked one last time as his cousin turned toward the window. "What do you say?"

"I can't do it, Tommy," he sighed.

"Yeah, okay. I can see that now," concluded a disappointed Tommy. He crossed to the coat tree and removed the jacket hanging there. "I guess I was just leaving, Sir."

"Really? I thought Zoey and the kids might stop by."

"Yeah well, maybe some other time. Good to see you again, Mr. President," he said as he pulled his coat on. "Please give Abbey my love."

"Tommy, what's wrong?" questioned the President.

"Nothing, Sir."

"I don't believe you."

"Can't help that, Mr. President." He glanced back at his cousin, "Leo . . . see ya around."

Leo turned from the window. "Tommy wait . . ." he started.

"Don't worry about it, Leo. I guess maybe it's not your fight after all," Tommy said as he closed the door behind him.

Jed stared at his best friend, "What was that all about?"

"Nothing, Sir."

"I don't believe you either, Leo."

"Sir, please."

"What's going on, Leo? You and Tommy were laughing and making jokes when I left. I come back and Tommy's leaving, saying that something's not your fight. Tell me that's not an issue and I'll call you a liar to your face."

"Sir, it's a whole can of worms that we can't afford to open."

"Tell me about it and let me make that decision."

"There's nothing to decide. For once, this isn't about you."

"You wouldn't turn your back on Tommy like that. Not unless it affected your family or this administration. Or me." Jed squared his shoulders and looked directly at his best friend. "Leo, you can tell me now, or you can tell me later, but you will tell me . . ."


	4. Ch 3 Sins of the Past

**Sins of the Past**

Mallory O'Brien was running late. Not her standard mode of operation, but for one reason or another this morning, she was a step behind. Amazingly for once, her friend Jonathan had actually picked her up on time, but she had dropped a glassful of juice on her sweater, and had to clean up the mess. Changing clothes had thrown off her entire schedule - she hated that.

She and Jonathan had been on the Beltway, that endless road to nowhere in particular and to everywhere in between for nearly forty minutes. They were on their way to Dulles International Airport where she would be hopping a plane for Orlando. Dulles . . . her least favorite airport this time of day. Any time of day actually. Way too big, way too many people who were clueless, a lot like Washington, D.C. in some respects. _Oh well,_ she thought,_ at least it's Tuesday, not Monday. Hopefully, most of the politicos would have already flown in yesterday for tonight's State of the Union address._

As she watched the sixth near-miss accident in the last two miles, Mallory pulled out her cell phone. She suddenly realized that she'd been so busy packing the night before, there was no time to call her father. For some strange reason, she felt an almost urgent need to hear his voice today. He would have been in his office for hours now, _his_ standard mode of operation. She flipped the phone open, said the name that would automatically display his number, and punched the send button.

Mallory put the phone to her ear, listened to one ring, another, then a click and an oh-so-familiar voice yelling on the other end. "Margaret? Margaret, I need that Clemmons file again," he paused. "And get Josh in here . . . Margaret? . . . Margaret! Where the hell is she? . . . Margaret!"

Now she remembered why it was so important to talk with him. There was a bizarre sense of normalcy in that bellowing voice, something she'd known all her life. As she listened to her father's tirade, she just smiled and shook her head. Mallory didn't have to imagine this particular scene in her mind: she'd seen it in person more times than she cared to admit. Finally, the man on the other end of her phone sighed in defeat, "Leo McGarry."

"Well, gee Dad, let me see. Number one, I don't think I've ever seen the Clemmons file. Two, Josh, who is no where near me, probably sensed your mood, and is making himself scarce in another part of the building, far, far away from you as well. And three, as far as Margaret goes? I'm quite sure she's off doing whatever it is that you told her to do before you forgot you told her to go do it," she concluded.

"Hey Mal! What are you doing?" She could tell her dad was grinning. He nearly always smiled when he talked with his daughter. Mallory was the most important McGarry woman in his life, always had been. Ever since she came into the world, very nearly born at Exit 32 on the Long Island Expressway during one of the worst storms the East Coast had ever seen, she filled his life with love and warmth. She made him feel whole, the single greatest accomplishment in his life. Though he didn't speak of her often to others, she was never far from his mind.

"What do you mean 'what am I doing?' I'm calling you, Dad," Mallory answered. This was going to be a bit if a challenge. "Now, you're supposed to ask why I'm calling you because, wait for it . . . you forgot," she concluded.

"Of course I didn't forget, Mallory," Leo lied. He was sure he could come up with the reason she'd be calling, just give him a second. "I mean, how could I possibly forget?" he tried. "You're calling because . . . well, because . . . you know, the thing that's . . . you know . . . um . . ." He paused, then realizing full well that he was never going to remember, he simply stopped. After a moment of silence for the tongue lashing he was about to receive, he reluctantly sighed, "Okay, what did I forget?"

"That I'm headed to an educator's conference in Orlando." It never ceased to amaze Mallory. Her father could keep track of anything relating to Jed Bartlet's White House, including political situations and troop movements all over the world, economic forecasts, results from dozens of local, state, and federal elections, and endless scheduling appointments, but he couldn't remember that his own daughter was headed to Florida for a conference. "Remember? I'm receiving the award for . . . "

". . . National Teacher of the Year!" Leo burst out. "Mal, I'm so sorry. How could I possibly forget that?"

She could hear the apology in his voice, "Oh, I don't know, Dad. You've only got like a million things on your mind." She decided long ago that Leo McGarry would be hard pressed to keep track of anything not relating to politics if it weren't for Margaret. Mallory knew that her father's long-suffering assistant had always been such a large part of his success.

In fact, Mallory remembered being told by Sam about the first and only time that he had to "staff the President" for Josh. Feeling less than up to the task, he had asked Ginger if there was such a thing as a condensed _Reader's Digest_ index of all human knowledge. She replied that whenever they needed to know anything, they just used Margaret. After this latest episode, Mallory had no doubt that it was true. "Anyway, Dad, I just wanted to call you today because I'm not sure I'll get the chance to call Thursday."

A frown creased Leo's brow as he stared at the calendar on his desk. "Why would you want to call me on Thursday?" he questioned. There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and Leo shifted uncomfortably when he realized he must have forgotten something else.

"Um. Because it's your birthday?" Mallory finally said.

"Oh yeah." Whew! He thought it was something important, like _her_ birthday. "Well it's no big deal Mal. But you know I love being able to talk with you, whatever the day."

"It is a big deal, Dad. I wish I could be there to celebrate with you." She'd been with her father on his birthday every year for as long as she could remember. Even when she was going to college, she made it a point to be around for cake and ice cream on his birthday. And these last few years, since the divorce, it seemed even more important. "So, what are you planning on doing?" she asked.

"Doing? You mean for my birthday?"

"No, Dad, for my birthday," she said sarcastically. She couldn't believe how exasperating he could be at times. "Yes, for your birthday!"

"Nothing really. Work. Just another day, I guess." Leo couldn't remember the last time he went home before 9 p.m., and this week certainly didn't look promising.

"You should go out with some friends or something," she suggested.

As Leo considered her advice, he decided it could be fun, depending on whom he invited. Jordon Kendall yes, anyone else, not so much. But then he remembered that Jordy was out of town on a consult and would be flying home on the red-eye early Friday morning. Sighing he told her, "I don't think so Mallory. Besides, you know I don't mind being by myself."

"Except when I'm around?" she chided.

Chuckling he replied, "Except when you're around." She knew him so well, too well perhaps. He did wish she was going to be around for his birthday, but he knew if anyone deserved the honors, his daughter did. After all, she'd been _his_ Teacher of the Year for a long time now. Changing the subject, he said, "So you have to speak at this thing. What are you going to talk about?"

"Well, after the acceptance speech, I'm supposed to lead a discussion on the future of education in regards to opportunity for all children. You know one of the biggest problems we're facing in education these days?" she asked.

"Number two pencil shortage?" he quipped.

"Cute, Dad," she said, shaking her head. "No, one of the biggest problems we're facing is equity in education. The ideal of no child left behind has to be more than just an ideal, because up to this point, it hasn't been nearly effective enough. After years of saying that this is what we want, that this is what we need, our panel is going to propose a solution that we believe will actually work."

"That's great, Mal," he responded.

She continued her point, "You know, Dad, a lot of these kids are simply pushed through the system and are never given a chance to reach their potential because they're pre-judged or worse yet, ignored. Their test results are hidden, averaged in, and they get lost." She paused hoping that what she was saying would sink in with her father. There might come a time when she would need his help. "Anyway, there's still a lot of work to do, but I think we finally have the people behind it to get it done. And if not, we're up for a good fight."

"Yeah, I'm sure you are. You're always up for a good fight," her father replied.

"Got that right. Wanna piece of me?"

"Oh no, no, no, _nooo._ Don't want a piece of that!" he mocked.

"Good answer." Now it was her turn to smile. Talking with her dad was always fun, even if he did get on her nerves every once in a while. "We're going to get this done Dad, I know we are." Leo knew that Mallory was passionate about her role in education, but tongue-in-cheek she added, "And if we have any problems, I'll just tell them that I know the President of the United States personally."

Her father laughed at the notion. "Well actually, depending on who you talk to, especially in this town, that could either be good or bad."

"Dad, you know what I mean," she scolded. Quieter, she added, "It's our responsibility to do everything we can for these kids. After all, it's our future too."

Leo grinned again, "Mal, I love you."

"I love you too, Dad, but what brought that on?" she said, confused about the sudden admission.

A hundred different things ran through his mind. She had always tried to stand up for the little kids, for those who had no voice. Now she was going to have a golden opportunity to act on it. "I'm just proud of you," came the answer. "You may not take on the entire world, but you certainly take on your part of it with reckless abandon."

"I am not reckless," she denied. "I see problems and I try to fix them, that's all. Just like my Dad. What's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. Nothing at all." Leo stopped as he realized once again just how very lucky he was to have her. "I wish I could be there with you tomorrow. But I gotta stay and do this thing." He couldn't keep the regret out of his voice. It wasn't as if missing important events in Mallory's life was anything new for Leo, but for some unknown reason, this bothered him more than normal.

"The State of the Union Address is not just a 'thing', Dad. Besides, I know you'd be with me if you could." The unanticipated silence on the other end of the phone caught Mallory off-guard. Concerned, she asked, "Hey, what's wrong?"

Leo removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose, trying in vain to relieve the dull ache behind his eyes that was threatening to grow into a full-blown migraine. He took a deep breath, then spoke of things long brewing. "It's just that sometimes, I realize exactly how much I've missed out on in your life, Mal." Leo stared at the framed photo that sat on his desk, taken in happier times. The image of Mallory in the arms of her mother and father as she graduated from college, all of them grinning from ear to ear, always forced him to stop and reflect.

Anyone unfamiliar with Leo's history only saw a typical family photo from years past, but it was much more than that to him . . . it was a constant reminder. He had just been through the toughest fight of his life. Yet from the depths of despair, he came out on the other side of Sierra-Tucson with a new lease on life. Yes, rehab had taken a lot out of him. But in the end, Leo knew it was worth every minute of pain and suffering he endured to be able once again to look his wife and daughter in the eye. When all was said and done, he vowed never again to take for granted the time he had with them. Oh, there would be challenges along the way to be sure, but they compared little to the hell he and his family had already been through because of his drinking and drug abuse. As Mallory started her new life as a teacher, he started a new life free of the alcohol and Valium that had ruled his life for so many years.

Leo sighed and continued, "I wasted so much time when you were young, drinking, not being there for you. Or for your mother." He paused, as another wave of guilt threatened to overcome him. "Sad thing is, Mallory, I did to you exactly what my father did to me. You deserved better than that, you deserved to have a father who shared your life. I'll always regret that."

"Dad . . .", she whispered. Mallory glanced at Jonathan who gave her a sympathetic smile, then looked beyond and stared out the driver's window to the east, where she knew her father was . . . the Chief of Staff's Office in the West Wing of The White House. As she listened carefully to her father's tone, the pain in his voice made her wish she was standing there with him, able to wrap her arms around him and hold him close. She tried to find words that would comfort him, but it took a moment before she found her voice again. "Please don't do this to yourself, Dad," she said quietly. "That was a long time ago." Mallory had long since come to terms with having a father who was a recovering alcoholic and drug addict, of wishing he could be with her more, of blaming him for a lot of grief in her young life. "Who knows what small events in our lives shape who and what we are today?" she continued. "I mean, everything that has happened to us, big or small, makes us who we are, right? It's all part of the fabric of our lives - pull one thread and everything falls apart." She paused, knowing full-well that he was still beating himself up. "Besides, you know that you have always been there for me, and will always be with me, wherever I go, whatever I do, no matter what happens."

"I suppose." He knew Mallory was trying to make him feel better . . . it wasn't working. "So when do you leave for Orlando?"

Leo should have known better than to think his daughter would leave it at that. "Dad? We're okay, right?" came the reply.

He smiled, "Yeah, we're okay." Leo was trying extremely hard to get out of this conversation. "You didn't answer me though, when do you leave?"

"Jonathan picked me up about half an hour ago, and I'm on my way to Dulles now. I just wanted to make sure that I talked to you before I took off," she added.

"I'm glad you did." He paused, "Hey, since I'm not going to be there, why don't you read me some of your speech?" he suggested. "You know, just the highlights."

"Want a preview huh?" Mallory chuckled as she started digging through her briefcase, "I suppose, just for you, I can give. . ." She paused, then panic set in. "Oh no!"

"What?" Jonathan asked.

"Mallory, what's wrong?" her father questioned, suddenly alarmed.

"Turn around," Mallory ordered.

Jonathan looked at her, "What?"

"Why in the world should I turn around, Mallory?" Leo was frowning again.

"I said turn around. Now!"

"Mallory!" her father yelled.

"What's wrong?" Jonathan tried again.

Frustrated, she said, "I'm not talking to you, Dad."

"Well who then?" he questioned.

"Jonathan, I forgot it."

"What?" he asked.

"I forgot it. I forgot my speech!"

"You're kidding. How in the world . . ."

"Just turn around," she interrupted. "It's in my room at school."

"You don't have an extra copy?" Jonathan asked.

"Don't be silly, of course I do. It's right next to the other copy of my speech, along with my laptop. In my room. At school." If she wasn't so serious, Jonathan would have laughed them both into a wreck.

"Well this is a first," her father said.

"Oh, shut up."

"Hey, I'm just sayin' . . ."

"Well don't. Say it I mean," she cut him off.

"Okay," Leo chuckled. He could tell that now was not the time to pick on his daughter. "I'll be thinking about you tomorrow. I'm very proud of you Mallory, don't ever forget that."

"I know, I won't forget. Thanks Dad, and if I don't get to talk with you Thursday, Happy Birthday."

"Thanks, Mal. Be careful. And Mallory?"

"Yeah?" she answered.

"You hang in there, and don't give up without a fight, okay?" he advised.

"Okay, Dad. I'm sorry about yelling at you," she apologized. "I'll see you this weekend. We can go to supper when I get back?"

"It's a date. I love you, Baby."

"I love you too, Dad."

"See you later, Mal."

"Keep the faith."

"Yeah."

As Mallory closed the phone to end her call, she contemplated what her father had said. He was in the middle of a guilt trip again, and she wasn't sure exactly what had precipitated it. Their conversation seemed to start off in the right direction, but for some reason, it had taken a rather ominous turn. His mood lately had become sullen, almost melancholy, but she supposed he had a right to be a little down. The last few weeks seemed to have been particularly hard on him; she'd heard from Margaret that Leo seemed distracted, abnormally tired, which only intensified after a visit from his cousin Tommy last week. Mallory had a vague idea of the problem, but she promised herself that when she got back, she'd ask him exactly what was going on. Provided he could actually share the information, she'd eventually get him to talk.

As Jonathan turned and headed in the opposite direction, Mallory closed her eyes and leaned back on the head rest to try and relax. As she did, her mind drifted back through similar conversations she'd had with her father over the years. In her younger years, the impact his advice had wasn't necessarily what he'd hoped. Yes, there were times she'd act like she wasn't listening, but she always did. She was certainly listening today. In fact, his last comment still rang in her ears; _hang in there and don't give up without a fight . . ._ Oh, it wasn't the first time she'd heard it, but today, the remark just seemed sort of odd, almost out of place.

She thought about everything her dad had been through in his life. Growing up in Boston with an alcoholic father who rarely showed emotion, who was hardly ever home for his children; that same father in a drunken stupor using his police service revolver to take his own life; moving to Chicago with his mother and siblings afterwards to be near her family and to get away from the publicity his father had caused; putting himself through college on scholarships, work-study, the ROTC, and eventually the GI Bill; flying nearly 100 missions in Vietnam, and after being injured when he was shot down, spending three long days being carried through the jungle by his friend and wingman Ken O'Neil; losing that friend after more than thirty-five years because he had bribed officials in a defense contract with the government; becoming addicted to alcohol and Valium, then traveling that long road to recovery; having his life's very private failures become so much fodder for public consumption . . . losing his wife because of his commitment both to duty, and to his best friend, the President of the United States. If anyone knew about not giving up, it was her father.

Jonathan pulled into the school parking lot and turned the car off. When his passenger didn't move, he announced, "Hey, Mallory, we're here."

"Mmm?" she questioned, breaking out of her reverie.

"We're here," he repeated.

"Oh, okay." As they got out of the car, she told Jonathan, "I can't believe I forgot my speech. I mean, its only the main reason I'm going to this conference."

"Gee, and here I thought the main reason you were going was to receive that hunk of hardware," he smiled.

"Jonathan I swear, don't make me come over there," she used the threat her father always tried on her. It was about as effective on Jonathan as it had been on her.

"Bring it on, Pal."

"You are not amusing me today," she grumbled.

"And here I was trying so hard." He shot a glance at his friend. She seemed a little out of sorts after her conversation with her father, so he decided to take matters into his own hands. He purposely bumped shoulders with her as they walked through the door, trying to get her to loosen up. She stared at him wondering what in the world had gotten into him. He flashed an easy smile her way, "It's okay, Mallory. You still have hours before your plane takes off."

She shook her head, "I know but with all of the security nowadays, especially in this city, I hate to rush. I mean, I don't like being made to take my shoes off with a plane full of people waiting to taxi down the runway," she admitted.

"Yeah. Had that happen to me once. Once. Wasn't any fun," he remembered.

They arrived at the main office and stepped inside. "Hey, Patty."

"What are you doing here? I thought you'd be long gone by now," the secretary said.

"I hate to admit it, but I forgot my speech for the conference," she confessed.

Her friend shot her a mock disbelieving look and gasped, "You forgot something? Not possible."

Mallory rolled her eyes, "Yeah, I'm so perfect. Listen, Jonathan needs a visitor's pass for about thirty seconds while I go to my room."

"I figured. Well at least you won't have to contend with the kids – they're all in the gym for an assembly," she explained. Opening her desk drawer, she handed Jonathan a pass. "Here you go Jonathan. Keep her on track would ya?"

"I'm trying, Patty, really I am," he responded.

"You certainly are, Jonathan," Mallory piped up.

He grinned, "You're full of it today aren't you?"

"This is _not_ how I envisioned the day progressing," she grumbled.

"Don't I know it?" He gave his friend a knowing smile. "Now, let's go get that speech, shall we?"

They turned and walked quietly to her room. In the distance they could hear the kids laughing and singing with the motivational speaker the PTO had brought in for the morning. Once there, she went to her desk and opened the drawer that held the forgotten speech. "By the way, I was with you when you had to take your shoes off before boarding that plane," she reminded him.

"Oh yeah, right," Jonathan said, as he toed the carpet. The two had been on so many trips together, they all started to run together. "Remember when we finally made it on the plane? People looked at us like we'd been holding them hostage." Mallory shot a look at her friend. "Okay, well maybe we were," he concluded.

Mallory reached into her desk and triumphantly lifted out a folder, "Here it is!"

"Thank God," he mumbled under his breath.

"What was that?"

"Nothing, nothing at all." Mallory could get her Irish up better that anyone he knew, and Jonathan didn't feel like being on the receiving end of that side today. "To Dulles, Take Two?"

"Yeah." After she retrieved her laptop and bag, the friends started toward the front door. Suddenly it hit Mallory . . . Jonathan should be at work at The Pentagon. "So how did you get today off anyway?" she asked.

"Simple. I told them I was needed to take the White House Chief of Staff's daughter to the airport for an important out-of-town conference. They bought it."

"Funny boy."

"Mallory, I have personal time. Besides, after you hop on that plane, I'm going shopping, and maybe even see a movie. Now _that's_ something I haven't done in a long time."

"Wait," she stopped dead. "You're going shopping?"

"Yes."

She looked unconvinced. "You?"

"Yes, me."

"Why? You hate shopping."

"To get you a Christmas present," Jonathan quipped.

"Okay, Jonathan? It's after Christmas."

"I'm shopping early," he tried.

"Yeah, like three hundred-twenty-something days early," she reminded him.

"Okay, well maybe it's not Christmas shopping."

"Jonathan . . . oh, never mind," she laughed. "Let's just get out of here."

The two friends hurried toward the exit at the front of the building. As they rounded the last corner, a man stepped out of the office, stopping Mallory and Jonathan in their tracks. "Mallory O'Brien?"

Mallory thought to herself that the last thing she needed right now was an irate parent to deal with. She looked at the man and said, "Look, I'm really sorry, but I don't have any time to talk right now. If you will leave your student's name, your name, and phone number with our secretary, I promise I'll call you when I get back on Monday." She tried to move past the man, toward the door, but he blocked her path.

The stranger considered her for a moment, then stepped up and whispered in her ear, "Tell your Old Man that Billy Walker's son sends his regards."

His comment caught Mallory off-guard. "I'm sorry?" was all she could manage as she backed away from him.

Jonathan stepped in and ran interference, "Sir, we really need to leave now. She's promised to call you Monday, so if you'll just do as she asked, we need to be on our way." He took hold of a stunned Mallory's arm and led her around the man.

"Promises from McGarrys don't mean a thing," came the cold reply as she walked past.

Mallory glanced to her side and hesitated at the remark, but didn't turn around. A growing sense of dread came over her. Then she realized why - she heard a vaguely familiar sound, one she hadn't heard since she was a teen, when her dad took her to the shooting range . . .

"_Gun!" _Jonathan shouted.

Mallory dove toward the door, but it was too late. She felt a white-hot pain as the first bullet slammed into her left leg. The deafening echo that emanated from the hard walls of the hall hadn't died down when a second bullet ripped through her shoulder, taking her breath away. The force of the impact spun her around, and she cried out in pain as she landed hard on the cold floor.

"Mallory!" her friend screamed. "You bastard!" There was a scuffle as Jonathan tried to wrestle the gun away from her attacker. Mallory heard a third shot, and then, as quickly as it began, it was over.

Somewhere to her left, she could hear footsteps getting closer. The stranger leaned over Mallory and put the gun to her forehead. "You'll make sure that Daddy knows I'm coming for him, won't you? And tell him if he knows what's good for his family, he'll stay away from the Clemmons Case." She closed her eyes, trying to block the pain, as well as the image of the man leaning over her. She felt the gun being pulled away, but was only vaguely aware of receding footsteps.

When she opened her eyes again, he was gone. "Jonathan? Jonathan are you here," she called weakly. There was no answer from her friend. She tried desperately to turn her head, but couldn't . . . somewhere in the distance, there was screaming.

Fumbling as best she could, Mallory retrieved her cell phone with a hand that felt as heavy as lead. Don't drop it, _don't drop it_ . . . She was having trouble seeing the numbers, and prayed that what she had dialed was 911. After what seemed like an eternity, she heard a voice on the other end.

"911 emergency. What is your emergency, please?"

Mallory opened her mouth, but nothing came out. The bitter adrenaline rush and pain from her injuries had made her mouth dry. "This is Mallory O'Brien," she finally managed. "There's been a . . . a shooting . . . at my school."

"We have you at Clearlake Elementary School, is that correct, Ma'am?" the operator asked.

"Yes, main building . . . Cl . . . Clearlake Elementary . . . here . . ." Mallory was going into shock and had begun to shake uncontrollably.

"Ma'am, are there any injuries?"

"I've been sh . . . shot. Not sure, but I think . . . my friend Jonathan's been hurt too." It was getting harder and harder to concentrate on what she was trying to say. "I can't get him . . . to answer me."

"Is the shooter still there?"

"Don't know. Heard some . . . screams a minute ago." _The kids . . . where did Patty say they were? Recess . . . no wait, an assembly. The gym. That's right._ _God please don't let them get hurt,_ she prayed. "The guy said . . . he's Billy Walker's son . . . and he's going . . . after . . . my Dad."

"Who's your Dad?"

"Leo McGarry . . . White House Chief of Staff," she panted. "You gotta warn him, okay?" She was beginning to get disoriented, and the cell phone threatened to slip from her grasp. "Hurry, please. I don't how much longer . . . "

"Keep the line open, Ms. O'Brien. Talk to us," the operator encouraged.

"Don't think . . . I can . . ." she forced out. Mallory tried not to move. The pain in her shoulder was excruciating and it was getting harder and harder to breathe. She remembered being hit in the leg too, but she couldn't really feel it. Not a good sign, she knew, but there wasn't a lot that could be done about it right now. As a wave of nausea threatened to overcome her, she suddenly realized how weak she had become. She wanted so much to close her eyes, but was afraid to lose consciousness. From the very little her father talked about the injuries he suffered after being shot down, the hardest thing was to get past the pain and the blood loss and to stay focused, to stay awake. He had been thankful that Kenny was with him to help keep him focused. But she was all alone . . .

Mallory could feel herself drifting, but somewhere inside her head, she could hear her father saying, "You hang in there and don't give up . . . don't give up . . . _don't give up . . ._" Maybe she wasn't alone after all.

Into the phone, she whispered, "Would you . . . tell my Dad . . . I love him . . . and . . . I won't give up." It was the last thing Mallory O'Brien said before the phone slipped from her hand, before she closed her eyes.


	5. Ch 4 Finding Out

**Finding Out**

Ron Butterfield had been on his way to lunch when he got the call: _Thunderchief – Double Jeopardy_. His first responsibility, of course, was to The President of the United States. But Ron knew full-well that anytime the President's best friend was in danger, so was he. He strode into the Oval Office with FBI Special Agent Mike Casper right on his heels.

"Mr. President, we've crashed the building," he announced.

President Josiah Bartlet rolled his eyes at his Head of Security. "Oh criminey, what now?" he said as he glanced down at the folder on his desk. It was the third time this month they had been locked-down. He knew that Ron had a job to do, but this whole thing was getting a little old.

"Mr. President," Ron began, "There's been a shooting at an elementary school in Alexandria. Clearlake Elementary School . . ." The President's head shot up at the name as Ron saw the recognition in his boss' eyes. Butterfield looked as grim as Jed had ever seen him. That wasn't a good sign. "A teacher and her friend were hit . . ." There was no easy way to say this. "Sir," he continued as evenly and calmly as possible, " . . . it's Leo's daughter."

Jed swallowed hard and stared at the connecting door to his best friend's office. "Go get him," he ordered.

Ron nodded and headed to Leo's office, leaving Mike to explain the rest. He knocked, then stepped through the door and watched as Leo McGarry rifled through a seemingly endless pile of papers on his desk. He was obviously looking for something without much success. "Leo, I need to see you."

"Yeah, you and forty-seven other people." Leo continued to shuffle the documents, trying to find the long-missing Clemmons file. He had just about reached his limit with this whole mess, but hadn't intended on being quite so terse with the man standing in his doorway. "Sorry, Ron. What do you need?"

"We need to talk in the Oval Office," he replied.

"Margaret!" Leo bellowed. In her office, Margaret silently wondered if her boss would ever learn to use the intercom, but she knew the answer to that one. As always, she appeared at the door. "Margaret, where is the Clemmons file?"

"I told you, I put it on your desk half an hour ago. Unless you moved the thing, it should still be there," came the answer.

Leo was becoming more agitated by the second. "I did not move it because it is not on my desk," he denied.

"Yes, in fact, it is."

"No, it's not! I've looked on my desk and if it was on my desk, I would have found it."

Margaret walked from the door, flashed a patient smile as she moved two newspapers, picked up the missing file from beneath them, and handed it to him.

Leo reluctantly took the file from his assistant. "Tell me again why I haven't fired you," he grumbled.

"Because you'd never be able to find your files," she responded.

"At this point, I don't consider that a deterrent," he muttered under his breath.

"Leo, in the Oval?" Ron insisted.

He opened and scanned the file. "I'll be right there."

"Now, Sir."

Ignoring Ron for the moment he asked, "Margaret, did you ever find Josh?"

"No," she admitted.

"Find him, get him in this office. I have something to discuss with my Deputy."

"Leo! Right now." Ron was getting impatient.

He looked up at the Chief of Security for the first time. Ron's face rarely betrayed what he was feeling, but at this moment, his face was an open book. Leo had only seen this look once, just before he was told that the President's youngest daughter was missing, and there was a dead agent at the scene. His eyes never left Ron's face. "I'm next door, Margaret. Tell Josh to wait for me."

"Yes, Sir."

Leo laid the file back down on his desk and followed Ron back through the connecting doors to the Oval Office where The President and Mike were waiting. "Leo, you remember FBI Agent Casper?"

"Of course," he said extending hand. "Mike, what's going on?"

Mike shook the proffered hand and simply nodded. He wasn't comfortable in the Oval Office under normal circumstances. What he had to say to Leo McGarry was going to make it that much harder.

"Leo, there's been an incident at an elementary school in Alexandria," Ron began.

"What kind of incident?" he asked.

Ron glanced at the FBI agent and nodded. "A man armed with a military issue handgun walked into the school and shot a teacher and her friend," Mike continued.

"We're unsure of the shooter's whereabouts," Ron added.

"Any kids hurt?" Leo, the President noted, was as always thinking of those who couldn't protect themselves.

"No. All of the kids and the rest of the staff were unharmed, though the main office staff were locked up for a time." Mike shifted on his feet and looked away . . . this wasn't going to be easy.

"Hold it," Leo began to get an uneasy feeling as he noticed the sudden change in body language. "Why are you two telling me about this?" he asked Mike.

Taking a deep breath, the agent began, "Mr. McGarry . . ." He paused and shot a glance at the President, but the normally talkative Bartlet remained quiet. Mike knew a bit about these two and their long history of friendship. They had known each other for more than 40 years - they'd gone to battle for, and with, each other more times than anyone was aware, of that he was certain. If this had to be said, maybe it was better coming from his long-time friend.

Leo caught the look that passed between the two men. Suddenly, the hair on the back of his neck was standing on end. "Mike," he said cautiously, "what school are you talking about?"

"Sir . . . ," the agent glanced from Leo to the President and back several times, then gave up and looked at the floor.

Finally acquiescing to Mike's indecision, Jed Bartlet stepped forward and faced Leo. Lifting his chin slightly, he looked directly into his best friend's eyes. "Leo . . .," he said quietly, "it's Mallory."

Leo stared at Jed for a long time before he spoke. Slowly, he shook his head, "Can't be. I just talked to her less than an hour ago." Jed held out his hand and took a step toward his friend, but Leo backed away. "No! There's been some kind of mistake! She's on her way to Dulles, she's headed to a conference in Orlando," he reasoned. "She's supposed to receive the National Teacher of the Year Award tomorrow! I mean, come on, I just talked to her and she said . . ." Leo stopped short as the conversation he had with Mallory replayed in his mind. Slowly, the blood drained from his face. "Oh, no," Leo choked out. "Mallory forgot her speech. She had to turn around and go back to the school to get it." He turned away, unmoving, staring out the window as reality finally hit him. "Oh, my God," he whispered.

"According to the secretary at Clearlake, Mallory and her friend, an Air Force Lieutenant Jonathan Wilcox, went to her room to get her speech," Mike continued quietly. "They were on their way out when the gunman stopped them. Your daughter assumed he was a parent who wanted to talk with her, because she asked him to leave his name with the secretary. When she and her friend started around the gunman, he opened fire."

"Mike, please. Please tell me this is a bad joke," Leo pleaded.

"I'm sorry Mr. McGarry." Talking with a victim's family had always been one of the hardest parts of his job. "We have a team at the site. They've spoken with Lieutenant Wilcox and will keep us informed of their progress."

Slowly, Leo turned to face the room. He dreaded the answer to the question he was about to ask, but swallowed hard and whispered, "Mike, is she alive?"

"Yes, Sir. In fact, she's the one who called 911. From the EMT's description though, she's been shot in the shoulder and leg, and was bleeding pretty heavily." At the sight of Leo McGarry's tortured face, the agent added, "Sir, she did have a message for you."

"What did she . . . what . . . ?" Leo choked out.

Mike deferred to the President one more time. Jed moved to Leo's side and put a supporting hand on his shoulder. "She said . . . " He stopped as the words caught in his throat. "She said, 'Tell my Dad that I love him, and . . . I won't give up.'"

Tears welled in Leo's eyes, blurring his vision as the words he had said to his daughter such a short time ago were repeated back to him. "I have to go to her," he whispered.

"You can't," Ron said.

"I have to," Leo insisted, wiping the back of his hand across his tear-filled eyes.

"Leo, you can't go," the President said.

Determined, he started toward the door. "I'm going."

"No, you're not," Ron said as he grabbed at Leo's jacket sleeve. "Leo, listen to me. The scene is not secure."

"I don't give a damn, Ron!" he spat as he broke the agent's tight grip.

"Listen, everything that can be done is being done. You showing up there will only complicate things," Ron said.

Leo stopped and turned back to the agent. "Why? What aren't you telling me?"

Ron exchanged glances with the President, who nodded. He took a deep breath, "He wants you."

"What do you mean, Ron?" Leo said as he glanced back at the President.

There was no easy way to say this. Ron looked at Mike, but he hesitated. "Leo, it appears that Mallory was specifically targeted to get to you." He continued, "She told the 911 operator to warn you that the shooter said he was coming after you."

His resolve firmly in place, Leo said, "Then let's go. The longer we wait to give him what he wants, the longer Mallory lays in there bleeding."

"The building is in lock-down. No one goes in or out," Ron insisted.

"We're talking about my child, Ron!"

"And that's why you can't go. Leo, please. We have a name and we're working to find this guy."

"He'll kill her!" he shouted as he started for the door again. "I'm going."

"Look, the EMT's are with her now, and we don't know if this guy's still in the area, just waiting for you to show up." Ron tried to reason with the President's best friend, "Leo, look at me. You absolutely can not go."

Ignoring the warning, Leo turned as he and Jed matched stride for stride to the door.

The President blocked his path with one hand, and gripped Leo's left arm with the other. "Leo, wait!"

At the touch of the hand, a scream of anguish emanated from deep within the White House Chief of Staff, "NO!" Leo whirled around and grabbed the President's shirt, his arm cocked, ready to pummel the Leader of the Free World.

"LEO!" Ron shouted.

No one breathed as the enraged White House Chief of Staff stopped short, catching the look in his best friend's eyes. Jed didn't have the quickest reflexes in the world, but he surely could have tried to duck. He didn't so much as flinch. Somewhere in the back of Leo's mind, he became aware that his right arm was rigid, and had begun to shake uncontrollably. Leo gasped as he realized what he had almost done. He slowly turned to look at the clinched fist that Ron now held firmly in his grasp. Consciously willing himself to do so, Leo unclenched the offending hand, and lowered it as a tremor shot through his body. He turned back to the President, and searched his face as Ron carefully released his grip on Leo's fist and collar. Slowly, Leo's left hand relaxed its death grip on his friend's shirt, patting and smoothing out the rumpled fabric, trying to erase any evidence that Leo Thomas McGarry had very nearly committed assault and battery against the President of The United States. "Oh, my God . . ."


	6. Ch 5 A Difficult Decision

**A Difficult Decision**

"Margaret, I need to talk with Josh privately. In five minutes, I'll need to see C.J., Toby, Will, and Donna as well." Leo's voice wavered ever so slightly, threatening to betray him and the enormous conflict he was feeling at the moment.

"Do you want me to get them now?" she asked.

"Just tell them to meet in my office in five minutes, okay?"

"You want to meet with them separately or together?"

"Together."

"In your office or the Roos. . ."

"Margaret!" Leo was on a short fuse at the moment, and Margaret was getting dangerously close to setting it off.

"Sorry." Margaret studied her boss intently - she'd known him way too long not to pick up on his moods. "Leo, are you okay?" she asked.

"Just . . . when everyone else gets here, have them wait in your office." His voice softened a bit, "And I'm sorry, Margaret. I didn't mean to yell at you." He gave her a sideways glance, trying to hide the tears that were threatening to overflow again. "Send Josh in, please," he cleared his throat.

"Yeah, okay," Margaret replied as she backed out of the office, taken aback by his apology. It was all too obvious that something big was happening, and as much as she wanted to ask him about it, she reasoned she'd find out soon enough.

Leo turned his back on the door, collecting his thoughts. How would Josh react to what he had to say? Leo knew that Josh didn't have a clue of what was coming. How could he? He didn't even know about Mallory. What would happen if he refused the job? _At_ _this point, _Leo thought,_ I guess it doesn't matter either way._ He was going to do what he had to do to get to Mallory and keep her from suffering any more.

Josh entered the room and saw Leo standing next to the window, arms folded across his chest, looking out. He waited, hoping that his boss had heard him come in. After a few moments, he said quietly, "Leo?" Nothing. Leo didn't turn around, never moved. _Oh man, _he thought, _I must be in real trouble if he won't even answer me._ Josh swallowed hard and tried again, this time a little louder. "Leo? You wanted to see me?"

Leo stared straight ahead, out the window, his stance unchanged. "Close the door, Josh," he said softly. Rarely were the doors to Margaret's office and the outer hall closed at the same time. Even when he and Sam were being dressed down for talking with Sam's call-girl friend Laurie, for intervening on Leo behalf in the White House drug investigation instigated by Lillianfield, the doors had been open. This must really be serious. Josh moved to close the door, then turned and stared at the carpet, wondering what he was going to be yelled at for this time.

Hearing the door click shut, Leo started, "I've . . . " He was finding it extremely difficult to speak the words. What he did, he felt he had to do, but that didn't make the decision any easier. "Josh, I've asked for an indefinite leave of absence."

Josh raised his head. "I'm sorry?" Surely he hadn't heard right.

"An indefinite leave of absence, Josh. Something's happened . . . there's been an incident . . . at Mallory's school. She was . . . there was a man with a gun . . .," Leo sighed heavily, suddenly drained. "Josh, Mallory's been shot . . . and they won't let me leave to go to her, and so . . .," his voice trailed off.

"Leo, my God! Is she okay?"

He spun around to face his assistant. "No, Josh, she's not okay! She been shot and it's because of me!" he bellowed.

Josh took a step forward, frown on his face. "What do you mean it's because of you?"

"The shooter did it to get at me." Leo's eyes flashed an anger that Josh had never seen. "He said he's coming after me."

"Leo . . ."

Seeing the pity in his deputy's eyes, Leo nodded and eased up a bit, "Yeah, well. I've got to get to her, I have to protect her . . . and the President. I just wanted you to know first." He took what he hoped was a controlling breath, and walked toward Margaret's door. He gripped the doorknob tightly, knuckles turning white. When he opened it, he found the rest of the staff gathered and waiting. "Come in everyone. Margaret, will you join us too?"

"Do I need to bring my note pad?" she questioned.

Leo shook his head, "No, just get in here."

The staff filed in one by one and took up positions around the room. Leo closed the door quietly behind Margaret, and stood there, hesitating, his hand not leaving the doorknob. For a split second, he considered opening it back up, stepping through, and leaving them all behind. No turning back, no explanation. But that was the easy way out and he couldn't do that to them. Especially now.

Leo turned to find his staff staring at him, at each other, at the floor. He walked to the front of his desk and stood there. _Just get this over with._ "I wanted all of you to be together, to hear this first hand." No one moved. "I've requested an indefinite leave of absence." He didn't give them time to object. "As of now, Josh is the Acting Chief of Staff."

The stunned White House team exchanged glances. None of them wanted to ask the question, but finally C.J. couldn't hold back. This was big and she needed to know what exactly was going on. "Leo what is it? What's wrong? Why are you doing this?"

Leo rubbed a trembling hand over his weary eyes. This whole thing still seemed surreal, even absurd, all like a bad dream in a way. He certainly didn't look forward to telling his staff, but he'd made up his mind to suck it up and get it over with. He looked up, and began, "Mallory's been hurt. She was . . . shot." There was a collective gasp from the room. When he saw Margaret's hand shoot to her mouth, Leo's voice cracked for the first time. "It happened at her school, and it's my fault. The guy hurt her to get at me . . . he said he's coming after me."

"Oh no, Leo," C.J. started.

Toby continued, "Why would anyone . . ."

"Leo, is she . . .," Margaret tried.

"I don't know how she is!" he stormed. Leo closed his eyes tight as his imagination began to take hold. After a moment, he shook his head and moved behind the desk to sit down. He dropped his head into his hands as he tried not to think about the possibilities of what was happening with his daughter. Finally, he managed to continue, "Please . . . just let me finish, then if you have anything to say, I'll listen. Okay?"

They looked at each other then back at their boss. "Yeah," C.J. replied. The staff were all now painfully aware that Leo was on the verge of losing it.

Leo opened his eyes and stared at the graduation photo on his desk. Taking a deep breath, he said, "Ron won't let me leave to go to her, and this is the only thing I could think of. Besides, I gotta stop pretending I can protect the people I love while I'm in the White House. It's pretty obvious that ship has sailed." His staff seemed stunned at Leo's admission of helplessness. After all, this was the guy that they went to with their problems _– the guy the guy counted on. _He wasn't supposed to have problems, especially of this magnitude. They waited in silence for their boss to continue.

He started to speak again, but suddenly the door to the Oval Office flew open. "Leo! What the hell is this," the President demanded, waving Leo's letter in front of his face. "Where do you think you're going? You can't just drop this on my desk and walk away with no explanation!"

Leo stood automatically, but couldn't bring himself to look the President in the eyes.

"It doesn't need an explanation, Sir."

"You know what, McGarry? I never thought I'd hear myself say this, but you're a coward. Not only that, you're a lying coward," his friend accused.

Leo's head shot up. "What . . . what did you say?" he said, dazed, as though the words he'd heard didn't make sense.

"I said, you're a liar," Jed repeated.

"I've never lied to you," he denied.

"Really? 'Jed, I want you to run for President. I promise you, if you run for President and get elected, I'll be there the whole way. I'll be there through the election, and through your Presidency. I'll stick by you no matter what.' Sound familiar?"

Leo's head dropped as the words he'd spoken all those years ago were recanted. "That was . . . before . . .," he said quietly.

"What, so it gets a little tough and you run out on me?"

The anger in Leo rose again as he stared his friend down. "You think the last five and a half years haven't been tough?"

"Yes, I do. But that's what's made it worth doing." Jed considered his friend for a moment, letting the words sink in. He took a deep breath, trying to calm down. Quieter he continued, "Leo, we've had battles, personal and otherwise, but there've been much tougher battles than this."

"And I'm to blame for all of them," he admitted.

Jed was taken aback. "What would make you say that?"

"Because as you pointed out, I'm the one who came to you and got you to run for President, I'm the one who got you elected."

"Yeah, and forty-eight per cent of the voters had nothing whatsoever to do with it," Jed scoffed.

"We would have had a hard time winning if I hadn't brought in the staff I did. I brought in Toby, C.J., Josh, Sam . . . we were going nowhere without their help," Leo corrected.

"So you helped get me elected. That had nothing to do with what's happened to Mallory."

"You don't get it do you?" he slammed his fist on the desk. "It has everything to do with it! The guy went after my daughter to get at me, because of where I work, because of who I am!"

"Leo, you don't know the reason this guy had, if he even had one," Jed yelled. "Besides, you think you're the only one who could possibly be at fault here? No one else was to blame?" Leo had never given up in his life, and Jed certainly wasn't going to let him start now. "Not so long ago a bunch of guys went after my daughter to get to me, or have you forgotten that?" The sudden look of horror on Leo's face made Jed want to snatch the words back. It was obvious from his reaction that, like Jed and Abbey, Leo would never forget that horrifying experience. He let out a deep breath as his tone softened, "You're no quitter, Leo. So what's the real reason?"

Leo turned and gazed out the window. For a long time he remained silent, as if he didn't trust himself to speak. "Look," he began. "All I know is that in a few short years, none of us are going to be here. Someone else will be in the White House, someone else will occupy the Oval Office, there will be a new White House Chief of Staff. And all that any of us are going to take out of here is what we came in with . . . and that's each other, our family." His head hung low, he quietly finished, "I haven't been able to protect those that I love, including you and your family, and now it's _my_ kid who's paying the price."

"I didn't quit when Zoey was kidnapped."

Leo stared at the floor, his eyes unfocused. "But you did," he whispered, "and I was left to pick up the pieces. I held this administration together with bailing wire and duct tape." He was close to the breaking point now, but slowly turned and stared straight into his best friend's eyes. "I did that because I took an oath, because I had an obligation to this country. But more than that, I did it because of a promise I made to you a long, long time ago, and . . . I didn't want to let you down." There was a long silence in the room before Leo could continue. "You know Jed, our relationship is beyond friendship. It's beyond friendship, it's beyond family. We're old souls, you and I . . . kindred spirits. When I hurt, you hurt, and when you hurt, I hurt." Leo took a deep breath, "There isn't one person in this room that wouldn't rather die than let you down. But I would lay down my life for you without giving it a second thought. You know that."

"Then why do you want to bail on me now?" he asked quietly. Leo's unfocused gaze returned to the floor as he collected himself. There was no way he would leave under normal circumstances, but then these circumstances were anything but normal. "Leo?"

The Chief of Staff finally moved back toward the desk, sitting down heavily and ran a tired hand through his hair. "I have to go to Mallory," he whispered as he laced his fingers together and leaned his forehead into the clasped hands. His eyes squeezed closed and finally, unable to control himself any longer, tears began to flow. "I need to be there . . . to be with her . . . in case she . . ." He couldn't finish the statement. "Please, Jed, " he begged, "She's all I have . . ."

The President's emotions threatened to get the best of him. It had been a long time since he'd seen Leo like this. In fact, the last time Leo was in this shape, he was pleading for Jed and Abbey to help him get treatment for his drug and alcohol addictions. Last time, it was Mallory and Jenny that were all he had - now it was just Mallory. Jed straightened his shoulders knowing that the words he was about to say would be among the hardest of his life. "I'd give anything I have if I could help Leo, but you can't leave. The building's in lock-down. No one goes in or out, you know that," he stated quietly.

"Of course I know that!" Leo suddenly turned, "Look, if you don't want to grant my leave of absence, then tell me right now, and you'll have my resignation instead! Then you can't hold me!"

"Leo, please, I know this is difficult, but you're not thinking straight," Jed tried

Leo slammed his fists on his desk. "I don't care!" he yelled.

Jed searched his friend's eyes for a glimmer of hope, but it was difficult to find. "I want you to be with Mallory, but I'm not going to let you commit suicide," he explained softly. "The guy who did this is still out there and until we're sure we can protect you, you're not going anywhere." He hated doing this to his friend, but he had no choice. Jed squared his shoulders, "And on the other thing? I'm the President around here, you leave when I say so, and not before, do you understand me?" He laid the letter in his hand on Leo's desk, then turned on his heel and returned to the Oval Office, leaving a stunned staff in his wake.

No one breathed. No one spoke. Leo's jaw was clinched tightly as he stared at the door where the President had disappeared. After what seemed like an eternity, he leaned back wearily in his chair as he wiped the tears from his face. "You should all go," he said quietly. "Stay focused . . . for him."

"Thank you, Leo," they mumbled under their breath as they backed out of the room.


	7. Ch 6 The Hospital

**The Hospital**

Word finally came that Mallory had arrived at the hospital. With the immediate threat alleviated, Ron assigned three agents to Leo and the four headed off to Bethesda. When they reached the emergency wing, Leo ran ahead of the agents to the entrance and through the doors. He skidded to a halt next to the desk. "Ensign, I'm Leo McGarry. Where's my daughter, Mallory O'Brien?" he said breathlessly.

"Mr. McGarry, your daughter is being prepped for surgery. She's in Trauma Room Two, right over there, Sir." The young officer pointed to a set of double doors behind Leo.

"Thank you." Leo started to the door, but hesitated as he imagined what he might see. He'd been told his daughter was shot twice, once in the leg, once in the shoulder, and he knew from experience that the scene would be anything but clean. Yes, he'd seen gunshot wounds, shrapnel wounds, burns, injuries so severe that the victims were beyond any recognition, but this was his daughter, dammit.

Slowly, he opened the door and found an organized chaos; there were no less than twelve doctors and nurses hovering over Mallory. As Leo approached, they parted and he saw his daughter for the first time. His legs threatened to go out from under him, as he found himself struggling for control. He glanced over and saw that there were two IV's and a unit of blood already hanging next to her. A blood-filled bag draped from the gurney was attached to a tube coming from her chest, and there was an oxygen mask over her nose and mouth. Leo stepped up to his daughter and gently pressed her right hand to his cheek. Tears filled his eyes again, "Mallory, it's Dad. Can you hear me?"

At the sound of her father's voice, her eyes fluttered open. She found his face and tried hard to focus. "Dad?" Her tongue felt thick and heavy, "What happened?"

"Shhh. You're gonna be okay, Baby."

She struggled to reach up and tug the mask down under her chin, "Where am I?"

"You're at Bethesda Naval Hospital. You were shot, Mallory. At the school. A man pulled a gun . . ."

"Oh, no . . . The kids?" There was panic in her voice as she tried desperately to push herself up off the gurney. Leo put his hand on her shoulder and gently restrained her.

"Take it easy, don't try to move. Everyone's okay. They were all in the gym when it started. The gunman never went that far. The kids, the staff, everyone's okay, Mallory." Her eyes bore into his, searching for a lie as she squeezed his hand tighter. Leo gently wiped the drops of perspiration from her forehead. "Please, Mallory, just try to relax. You're gonna be okay, and the kids are fine. Trust me." Leo vaguely wondered whether or not his face betrayed the emotions he was feeling.

Suddenly remembering, Mallory groaned, "Jonathan! Dad, Jonathan was with me!"

"Shhh, Mallory. Jonathan has been taken care of. A bullet grazed his head, knocked him out. He's got one helluva headache, but he should be okay." Leo let a small sigh escape as he considered what Mallory's friend had done. "He tried to get the gun away from the guy and protect you."

"He's going to be okay?"

Leo nodded, "The doctors are pretty confident. They gotta keep an eye on him but he seems to be stable for now." He managed a knowing smile, "You know him, he's an Airman. We all have hard heads."

"Thick skulls is more like it," she said wearily.

A hand landed on Leo's shoulder. "Mr. McGarry, I'm sorry but we have to go," the trauma doctor apologized.

"Okay." Leo looked back at his daughter who gave him a faint smile. "I'll see you in a few hours, okay?"

"'kay," she whispered as he moved the mask back over her mouth.

Leo gave his daughter's hand a gentle squeeze, as he leaned over to kiss her forehead. "You're going to be okay, Mal. I love you, Sweetheart."

She closed her eyes, "I promise I won't give up. And Dad?"

"Yeah, Baby?" he smoothed the hair away from her face.

"Keep the faith."


	8. Ch 7 Telling Jenny

**Telling Jenny**

Leo had been in the waiting room for nearly an hour when he heard a familiar voice at the other end of the room. He lifted his head in time to see his ex-wife bolting through the door, and stood automatically, waiting as she quickly headed his way.

"Leo!" The panic in her voice tore at Leo's heart. He moved to meet her as she grabbed him in a tight embrace. "Leo, how is she?"

"They took her to surgery about and hour and a half ago," he whispered. "But I was able to talk to her before she went up."

"They wouldn't tell me what happened over the phone," she said, her voice quivering. "They wouldn't tell me anything," she cried into his shoulder.

"I'm so sorry, Jenny" he comforted. "I tried to call you myself, but with the building in lock-down, I guess I got caught up in trying to get here." Leo held his ex-wife at arm's length and gently brushed the tears out of her eyes. "Come on, let's sit down," he suggested.

"Just tell me what happened, Leo," she pleaded.

Leo stared into the eyes of the woman who had shared his life for nearly thirty-five years. He slowly drew his hand down her cheek, carefully tracing the curve of her delicate jaw with the back of his hand. Swallowing hard, he soon found himself unable to hold her gaze. Leo closed his eyes as his mind retreated to another time, another place, when she was the one lying in a hospital bed_. 'Just tell me what happened, Leo . . .' _The pain of that moment, a moment forever frozen in time, carefully locked away all these many years threatened to overwhelm him. Suddenly, it was all right there, fresh in his mind . . . the terrified look on her face as he told her of the accident, the desperate cry of sheer anguish as she realized it had taken the life of their unborn son, the horrifying realization that the trauma to her body had forced doctors to perform a hysterectomy to save her life, knowing that the only child they would ever create together was lying in the next bed, unconscious, fighting for her life.

Jenny watched as Leo's face contorted, trying to read his mind, wondering why his hand had started shaking, why the familiar, gentle caress suddenly felt so ominous. "Leo?" she whispered.

He slowly opened his eyes, trying to regain his composure. "Jenny, I'm sorry," he began, his voice thick with emotion, his hand dropping to his side a bit too quickly. "I was just . . . Mallory was . . . " Leo stopped and stared straight into Jenny's eyes. "She was at Clearlake . . . a man walked in, pulled a gun and shot her and Jonathan."

Jenny looked at him, searching his face for answers. Slowly, the fear she felt turned to anger. "Why? Why would someone shoot Mallory? She doesn't have any enemies!"

"Yeah, but I do," Leo quietly admitted.

"What do you mean?" she asked, confused.

He glanced away not wanting to face her. "Mallory was shot because of me. The shooter was trying to get to me through her."

"I don't understand, Leo."

His eyes returned to Jenny's face. "We don't exactly who the guy is yet, we got a name," he paused, "but he told Mallory to tell me he was coming after me."

Slowly, Jenny realized what Leo was implying. "So now you're responsible for getting your daughter shot?" she surmised. "It wasn't enough to sacrifice your marriage for this administration, you had to throw your daughter's life in for good measure?" The smoldering anger in Jenny's voice was something he hadn't heard in a very long time. Before he knew what had happened, there was a familiar sting on his face: Jenny had slapped her ex-husband. He stood staring at the floor, unable to look her in the eyes. "You've always been so good at serving your country, Leo. Too bad you didn't spend as much time, or put in the same effort in with your family."

Leo never looked up. He couldn't argue with her because he knew she was right. He wanted so much to tell her he was sorry, sorry for everything, but couldn't bring himself to open his mouth. All he could do was stand there and take what she was giving him.

"Well? Aren't you going to make up some excuse, some reason that this isn't your fault?" she added sarcastically.

Slowly, he lifted his head. As a single tear rolled down his cheek, he simply shook his head.

The haunted look in Leo's eyes made Jenny realize that she'd gone too far. But she was angry, and didn't really care who knew it. As she pulled back, she heard a voice, "Jenny, please don't do this to him."

She turned to find Jed and Abbey Bartlet standing in the doorway, "Mr. President, with all due respect, you of all people need to stay out of this."

"I know you're angry, Jenny, but this is not Leo's fault," he challenged as he and Abbey moved toward their friends.

"Sir, please," Leo pleaded with all the sadness of the world in his eyes. "Just leave it."

"Leo, I love Jenny very much, you know that. But she can't possibly believe you meant for this to happen, or that you could have done anything to prevent it."

"It doesn't matter anymore. Really. Please, leave it," he begged. "Please."

The pain and despair in his friend's voice nearly broke Jed's heart. He was about to tell both of them why that response was wrong on so many levels, when they were interrupted by a doctor coming through the door. "Mr. McGarry, I'm Lieutenant Commander Hall."

"Doctor. This is Mallory's mother, Jenny," he said, wiping the tear from his eye.

"Ma'am," he nodded. "I thought you would like to know that your daughter is doing as well as can be expected. A real fighter. She's going to be in there a while though, so if you want to go home, or you need to go back to your office, we will keep you informed."

"We'll stay, thanks," the President offered as Jenny and Leo nodded in agreement.

"Can you give us any details, Doctor?" questioned Abbey.

"Yes, Ma'am. She was shot twice, once in the left leg, once in the right shoulder. The leg wound is mostly muscle damage, no bone, no major blood vessels were involved. Therapy should be all she'll need to do."

"And the shoulder wound?" Abbey asked.

"That's a little more complicated, Ma'am. The x-rays were inconclusive as to the extent of injury. She did suffer a collapsed lung which was partially re-inflated in the ER. The doctors are fairly confident, however, that none of the bullet or bone fragments were near her heart. The damage appears to be confined to the shoulder. They'll perform a CAT scan before they close, if they feel it's necessary."

"You said bone fragments?"

"Yes, Ma'am, the bullet hit her shoulder blade. It may have saved her life," he added. The room grew quiet, and the doctor took that as his cue. "I need to get back to the OR. I'll send someone in every hour to update you, or whenever we have news."

"Thank you, Commander," Leo said.

"Yes, Sir." He turned and walked out the door.

For a long time, no one spoke. Jenny slowly wandered to a chair and sat down, the President and First Lady followed. But Leo never budged, his gaze returned to the floor. Two, then three hours came and went, with each update pretty much the same as the last . . . holding her own . . . don't know when she'll be out . . . prognosis hopeful, but guarded for the moment. Finally, forcing himself to move, Leo started toward the door.

"Where are you going?" the President asked.

"I need some air . . ."


	9. Ch 8 The Journey Home

**The Journey Home**

Leo had been walking the halls for nearly an hour, trying to come to terms with all that had happened. His daughter was fighting for her life, and he was to blame. His ex-wife had figured that out in short order, and had no problem sharing her discovery. The slap he received wasn't a new experience in Leo's life - in his drinking days, he'd earned more than his share, and rightfully so. But while in a drunken stupor, he didn't feel the sting until well after the fact. For this assault, he was only too sober.

As Leo headed back toward the waiting room, something on the wall caught his eye. He stopped and stared at the plaque: _John F. Kennedy Memorial Chapel_. It had always been so natural for Leo to turn to the Church in times of trouble when he was young. He'd been raised in the Catholic Church after all, and had always felt safe there. He was an altar boy, had attended Mass with his family every Sunday of his life . . . that is, until the year he turned fifteen. Leo felt a chill run through his body. He closed his eyes and shuddered involuntarily at the sudden onslaught of memories. His fifteenth birthday . . . the day his whole world changed . . . the day he lost faith . . .

. . . Grandpa Wallace McGarry was an alcoholic. It really didn't surprise anyone that his son Thomas followed in his footsteps. But a young Leo McGarry could never understand why his father wouldn't stop drinking. "He loves us, doesn't he? I mean, if he really loves us he'd stop, right?"

Leo asked his mother over and over, but always got the same answer. "Thomas is a good man, Leo. He provides for his family, puts a roof over your head and clothes on your back. You should be grateful for that."

He had always admired his mother's loyalty, the way she stood up for his father. It certainly couldn't have been easy being married to the man, after all. There were times she had to be both mother and father to Leo, his brothers and sisters, and yet somehow, she never complained. She always made her children understand that their father loved them, and for their part, they sought to return that love. Leo, in particular, took what his mother said to heart, and had tried his best to make Thomas McGarry proud. But as he grew older, he found that task more and more difficult to accomplish.

Leo had lost track of how many nights he'd waited up late for his father to show him a school project or paper he'd earned an "A" on, only to fall asleep at the kitchen table. Inevitably, his mother would gently touch his shoulder and guide him to bed, saying softly, "You can show him tomorrow, Leo."

She could always sense the dejection in his walk, hear the disappointment in his voice. "Okay, Mom," he would quietly agree.

Leo had been looking forward to his fifteenth birthday for over a year, and had marked the days off the calendar in his room for the last two months. After all, this was the day his father had promised to teach him how to drive. Leo ran home from school after wrestling practice and burst into the kitchen, grinning from ear to ear. "Mom, I'm home!" He tossed his books on the counter and absently ran a finger through the frosting on his birthday cake.

"Leo Thomas McGarry! You know better than that!" his mother scolded as she came through the doorway.

_Uh oh, caught._ "Sorry, Mom. It just looked so good," he said, licking the sweet butter cream icing from his finger. Leaning down, Leo gave his mother a kiss on the cheek, "Where's Dad? He's going to take me out and teach me to drive today, remember?"

Kathryn McGarry couldn't help but laugh at her son. "Yes, Leo, I remember." She studied his smiling face, and wondered when her little sandy-haired boy had grown into the fine young man before her. _Where had all the years gone?_ "You know, you and your father are two of a kind," she said. "Unfortunately, you have been blessed with a frightening combination of Scottish temperament and Irish blarney."

Leo's grin lit up the room. "Just remember Mom, I got most of the Irish blarney part from you!"

"All right, Leo," she chuckled. "Go get out of your school clothes. You and your father can terrorize the streets after supper."

"Yes, Ma'am." Leo hurried up the stairs to his room, and quickly changed clothes. His dad should be home any minute and he wanted to be ready_. Learning to drive . . . this was going to be great!_ As he finished tying his shoes, he heard the phone ring downstairs. He paused, straining to hear if the phone call might be for him. Kathryn's muffled voice filtered up through the floor. He couldn't exactly hear the words, but he began to get a familiar, uneasy feeling.

Leo only made it halfway down the stairs before he sat down. "Don't do this to him, Thomas . . .," he heard his mother say. "No, Thomas . . . No, I will not make an excuse for you again. It's his birthday and you promised him . . ." Leo leaned his head against the rail as he listened to his mother's plea. "Thomas, please come home . . . please." There was a long pause before she said, "Fine, I guess you can tell him that." Kathryn slammed the phone down. "Oh, Thomas . . .," she began to cry.

Leo hung his head dejectedly. He'd heard it all before. They'd argue, she'd make an excuse for him, and his father would apologize. Tomorrow. Always tomorrow. Taking a deep breath, he stood up from the stairs, shoved his hands deep into his pockets, and slowly made his way to the kitchen.

His mother was facing the counter, staring at the phone, arms crossed in front of her. Leo leaned back against the door. "Mom?" he said quietly.

She hurried to wipe her eyes, trying to hide the fact that she'd been crying. "Oh, Leo, Honey. I didn't hear you come back down." She blew her nose into her handkerchief and stuffed it back into the pocket on the light blue apron. "I guess those darned onions were stronger than I thought." Kathryn had become so very good at covering up. "That was your father on the phone. He has to meet his partner tonight, a break in a murder case, so he won't be able to . . .," she stopped short as she turned to face her son. He was staring at the floor, hands in his pockets. _Had he heard?_

Leo looked up, as a sad smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. "It's okay, Mom," he said softly. He glanced at the abandoned books on the counter and motioned with his head, "I got a lot of homework to do anyway." _Well that's a first, _he thought._ I just lied to my mother. Maybe the more you do it, the easier it gets. Dad would know, wouldn't he? 'You and your father are two of a kind . . .' _his mother had said.

He walked to the counter and tucked his books under his arm.

"I'll let you know when supper's ready," his mother called as he started to leave.

Leo hesitated in the doorway, not turning around. "I'm really not very hungry, Mom. If it's all the same to you, I'm just going to stay in my room tonight." Leo didn't want to be with anyone, and he certainly didn't want to give his sister Josie the opportunity to rub it in about him not driving.

"You know your brother and sisters will be home soon. They'll want to wish you a happy birthday and will be disappointed if you don't come down for supper." Leo tucked his chin to his chest and stared at the floor. Kathryn could see that his mood wasn't going to be shaken. He had been let down by his father yet again, and there was nothing she could say or do to change her son's mind. Resigned she said, "All right, Leo. Will you at least come down and cut your cake?"

"Sure, Mom." He started toward the stairs.

"Leo, I love you," she called after him.

"I know," he nodded. "I love you too."

"And you know your father loves you, right?"

Leo hesitated, but didn't answer. He just couldn't bring himself to say it. "I'll be upstairs."

Once in his room, Leo closed the door and leaned his head back. Today was the day he was supposed to learn to drive. His father was supposed to teach him. They were going to spend time together, just the two of them, like they did when Leo was younger. He promised. "I mean, it's not like he's never lied to me before, right?" Leo mumbled to himself. _So why does it hurt so much this time? _Finally, unable to hold it in anymore, he hugged his books to his chest and slid down the door. With his eyes closed tight, he began to sob uncontrollably as all of the pent-up emotion came flooding out. The years of disappointment in his father had finally caught up with Leo and there was no way of stopping it now.

Kathryn McGarry could hear her son in his room crying, trying to hide from her. She grieved for the loss of his childhood, for her inability to make a difference in the way her husband treated their son, for the silent suffering that Leo had endured in his young life. Something had to give, but she just wasn't sure how it was going to happen.

A short time later, she heard a ruckus outside growing louder by the second. Kathryn smiled in spite of herself at the sight of the group coming up the sidewalk – the rest of her family had finally made it home. They burst through the door laughing all the way. "Mommy, we home!" Scotty shouted.

"Not so loud, Scotty, I'm right here," Kathryn said to her boisterous four-year-old son. As she hugged them, she added, "Please keep the noise down. Leo's in his room studying and I don't want him disturbed."

"Can I go get him for supper?" Elizabeth asked as she shrugged out of her coat.

"No, Sweetheart, Leo's not going to eat with us tonight."

"But it's his birthday!" Maureen protested.

"Yeah, Mom, he's gotta come down and eat! I mean, we gotta have cake." Josie added.

"I know, Dear. He'll come down to cut his birthday cake, but for now, he needs to study." Kathryn had already noticed that it had grown quiet in Leo's room. She hoped that he was at least able to find some peace. "Girls, after you hang your coats up, please set the table. Your father won't be home, so it's just the five of us for supper."

"Yes, Ma'am," Josie replied cautiously, not taking her eyes off her mother. She helped her younger siblings with their coats, then moved to the refrigerator. "Maureen, please get the plates, Liz, get the silverware."

"I wanna hep too!" Scotty yelled.

"Okay Scotty, geez, but be quiet about it, would ya? You can get the napkins," Josie agreed. "You know where they are. Get six out for when Leo comes down." As she grabbed the glasses from the cupboard and filled them with milk, Josie glanced at the staircase that lead to Leo's room. Her mother wasn't telling them everything, but she decided not to question what was going on until she saw her big brother.

In the stillness of his room, Leo's head suddenly jerked up as he took in a sharp breath. He wasn't sure exactly how long he'd been on the floor, but it had gotten dark, and his legs had gone numb. "Musta fallen asleep," he mumbled.

As he stretched and ran a hand through his hair, there was a light knock on the door. On the other side, he heard his mother's voice, "Leo, Honey, it's time to come down and cut your cake."

"Okay, Mom, be right there." He stood up, holding onto the door knob for support waiting for the pins and needles in his legs to go away. As he scrubbed the sleep and spent tears out of his eyes, he set his books on the desk and headed out the door.

When Leo hit the bottom of the stairs, his brother and sisters grabbed him, very nearly knocking him over, and dragged him bodily into the kitchen. He couldn't help but smile at his siblings who were all trying to hug the stuffing out of him. _'They're so innocent,' _he thought._ 'God, I love them.'_

"Leo, did you get to drive today?" Josie asked.

As he moved to the drawer to retrieve the candles for his cake, he took a deep breath. "No, Dad had to work late," came the answer. He was getting as good as his mother at covering for Thomas McGarry.

"But he was supposed to take you and teach you to . . ."

"He had to work late, Josephine, okay!" Leo cut her off. "Stop talkin' about it!"

"Leo! Please don't talk to your sister that way," Kathryn admonished as her son folded his arms across his chest and dropped into a chair.

Josie stared at her older brother. Something had changed, she could see it in his eyes. Wisely, she just shrugged her shoulders, "Just askin'. Sorry."

"Light da candos, Mommy!" Scotty cried.

"Scotty, not so loud!" his mother admonished. The bouncing four-year old wiggled his way up into the chair next to Leo. "You need to be patient. We'll light the candles in a minute."

Leo finally looked away from his sister and breathed out. He turned to Scotty, who was tugging on his shirt sleeve, trying desperately to get his attention. "Can I hep? Peeze?" he begged.

"Yeah, sure," Leo replied as he started to hand the candles to Scotty.

Not wanting to be left out, Maureen cried, "Us too, Leo!"

"Yeah, us too, Leo!" repeated Lizzie, trying to grab the candles from his hand.

"Hey, not so fast!" Leo stood up to get the candles out of reach. He turned to face his two youngest sisters, scrutinizing their eager faces, then held up the candles in front of them, and agreed, "Okay. But before you put them on, you gotta answer this: there's three of you and there's fifteen candles, so how many do each of you get to put on?"

"Aww, Leo, how come you always gotta make everything so hard?" Lizzie complained.

"'Cause you gotta learn your times tables," he answered.

"I don't gotta learn 'em today, do I? I'm only six!" she reminded him.

"I know, but it's never too early to learn." Leo turned his attention to the older of the two as Scotty quietly took the candles from his brother's hand. "Come on, Mo, you're in fourth grade now, you can do this. Fifteen candles, three of you."

Maureen looked duly perplexed: she had a hard enough time getting the answers right with pencil and paper. Not wanting to disappoint her big brother, however, she tried hard to figure it out. She stared at her hands, then used her fingers, counting, and recounting. After a moment she asked, "Four?"

Leo folded his arms over his chest and stared at his sister. "Nope. Try again. Fifteen candles, three of you."

Unnoticed by his brother and sisters, Scotty had laid the candles on the table and carefully separated them into three neat piles. He counted each of the piles, one at a time, mouthing to himself, _One, two, three, four, five. _Then, in a voice not much above a whisper, he looked at Leo and answered, "Five?"

Leo spun around and stared in astonishment at his little brother. Scotty ducked his head, waiting for his big brother to tell him he was wrong. But Leo simply smiled and asked, "Scotty, how did you know that?"

He peeked up at Leo, then lowered his head back down, unsure of himself.

"Scotty?" Leo tried again. The little boy began lightly kicking the table leg in an effort to distract his brother's attention and get out of explaining, but Leo wasn't buying it. "Answer me, Scotty. How'd you know that?"

The youngest McGarry finally responded, pointing to the neat piles on the table. "'Cause dere's free piwles, one fo' Mo-mo, an' one fo' Lizzie, an' one fo' me," he stopped.

"And?" Leo encouraged.

"An' dey aww got five candos in 'em?", he guessed.

"That's exactly right, Scotty, and that means fifteen divided by three is five, and three times five equals fifteen," he acknowledged as he patted Scotty on the back. His little brother looked up, confident this time, beaming with pride as Leo took the three sets of candles and handed them out. "All right, now let's see how good you are at putting them on the cake."

As they got started, Leo glanced at his mother, who was smiling at him for the impromptu math lesson. Josie, however, just rolled her eyes at her brother and turned to get the ice cream from the freezer. He grinned at Josie's apparent consternation and retrieved the matches from the cabinet, "I'll light the candles, Mom." As he sat back down, Scotty slid over onto his lap. Leo noted with some amusement that his sisters began to sing the Birthday Song before he had all fifteen candles lit.

After making a wish and blowing out the candles, Leo dutifully cut his birthday cake and doled out pieces to his mother and sisters. Then he got a piece for his little brother and finally, himself. He grinned as Elizabeth and Scotty proceeded to get more frosting on their faces than in their mouths. Automatically, he picked up a napkin and cleaned Liz's face, laughing as she squirmed away from him. She just looked at her big brother and giggled. As bad as today had been, Leo was glad that he had them to look after. His little brother and sisters took his mind off of their father, even if it was only temporarily.

"Hey, anybody home?" Tommy called through the front door.

"Come on in, we're back here!" Leo yelled.

Tommy and his little brother appeared at the kitchen door, "Sorry, hope you don't mind us stopping in. Me and Jimmy was out . . .," he hesitated. "Well, we was just out walking."

Leo's mother turned from her spot by the counter, "What do you mean you were out walking? Tommy, it's 30 degrees outside!"

"It's not that cold, Aunt Kathryn. Anyways, we went to the library for a while, so it was okay."

Leo's little cousin looked up at him and tugged at his shirt sleeve, "Pop hit . . . "

"Be quiet, Jimmy!" his brother warned.

"But Tommy, we can tell Leo . . . you said . . . "

"I said, be quiet! There ain't nothin' to say about it, Jimmy, now hush up, would ya?"

Kathryn eyed her nephew. "Tommy, who did your father hit?"

"No one, Aunt Kathryn. Jimmy's just talkin'." Seeing the cake on the table, Tommy saw the chance to change the subject and piped up, "Hey, it's your birthday, Leo!"

"Yeah, yours too," Leo responded quietly, knowing _exactly_ who Tommy's father had hit.

"Tommy?" Kathryn questioned, not letting the subject drop.

He looked at his aunt, feeling somehow resigned to his fate. "Please don't worry. Me and Jimmy's used to it."

"Did you get to have cake today, Tommy?" Maureen asked, oblivious to the real meaning of the conversation around her.

"Nah," Tommy shook his head. "Mom was sick and so she wasn't able to do too much."

Kathryn hadn't taken her eyes off her nephew. She certainly wasn't finished with him, but decided to hold off for the moment. "Why didn't your mother call me, Tommy?" she finally asked. "I could have baked a cake for you, too."

"It's okay, Aunt Kathryn," he said shrugging his shoulders, "it doesn't really matter. Woulda just been me and Jimmy eatin' it anyhow."

She shook her head as she smiled kindly and guided her nephews to the table, "Well then, you and Jimmy will sit down and have some cake with us."

"I'll get plates and silverware," Maureen volunteered enthusiastically.

"I'll get the milk. Scotty please get two more napkins," Josie added.

"Thanks!" With that, the group began the Birthday Song again, this time to honor Tommy.

They sat at the table for the next hour enjoying their cake and ice cream, talking about school work, impending field trips, and Leo and Tommy's wrestling team, how Leo's coach had picked him to Captain the squad, the first sophomore to ever hold that honor, and how they were expected to compete at the State level again this year. Soon though, Scotty and Maureen began to yawn, making everyone else join in. Glancing at the clock, Kathryn told them, "All right everyone, it's getting late. Time to get ready for bed. Please put your plates, silverware, and glasses in the sink and go upstairs."

"Yeah, I gotta get Jimmy home into bed too," Tommy said as he scooted away from the table, taking care of his and Jimmy's dishes.

"I'll walk you out." Leo wrapped an arm around his cousin's shoulder as they headed to the front door. "You two gonna be okay?" he asked quietly.

"Yeah. Pop was pretty well gone when we left three hours ago," Tommy whispered. "He should be passed out by now."

"Sorry."

"Yeah, well don't be. If he's out, he can't hit us." A sad smile crossed his face as he helped Jimmy with his coat, then shrugged into his own. "See ya tomorrow, Leo. Happy birthday."

"You too."

Leo watched his cousins head down the sidewalk toward home, then returned to the kitchen where he and Josie helped their younger siblings clean up. "Tell Mom goodnight," he ordered. One by one, they stepped up and kissed their mother. Then Leo leaned down, gently dropped a kiss on her cheek, and whispered, "Thanks for the cake, Mom. I love you."

Kathryn gently put a hand on Leo's cheek and looked into those intense hazel eyes of his. "I don't know what I'd do without you, Leo." She caught her son's face in her hands as he turned to leave. "Leo, what's going on with Tommy? Is his father hitting him?"

Leo hesitated and gazed at the floor – he couldn't betray his cousin's trust, he promised. "He's . . . he's okay, Mom. Just got some things hanging over his head, that's all," he tried quietly.

Kathryn stared at her oldest son. She realized he wasn't being completely honest, but she understood his loyalty to his cousin, and decided not to press the matter tonight. "All right. But please keep Tommy out of trouble, okay?"

"Yes, Ma'am." He straightened up and smiled at her, then turned to the others, "Okay everybody, let's go."

"Carry me, Leo!" Elizabeth said.

Maureen chimed in, "Me too!"

"I wanna biggyback ride!" Scotty shouted.

Leo turned on his little brother. "Scotty, I swear! Someone's going to think we're beating you!" Leo gave his little brother his best adult stare. "You have to stop screaming!"

The little boy flinched as he tucked his chin to his chest and looked up at his big brother. "I sorry, Weo," he whispered.

Staring down into those big, sorrowful blue eyes, Leo's tone softened. "And it's piggyback, not biggyback."

"Biggyback," Scotty tried quietly.

"Piggy, piggy. This little PIGGY!" his brother corrected.

"Biggy, biggy. Dis li'l BIGGY," Scotty repeated a little louder.

Leo sighed. He was too tired to try and straighten out his little brother's P's and B's tonight. "Yeah, okay. Hop on." Scotty hesitated, then giggled as he scrambled onto Leo's back. Once Scotty was set, the girls practically jumped into his arms.

Kathryn watched as Leo headed up the stairs with his brother and sisters in tow. When they reached the top, she heard him say, "Find your p.j.'s Maureen, and see if Liz's are in there too."

"Why do I have to always find her p.j.'s?" Mo complained.

"'Cause you're older and it's your job to take care of her," he advised.

"I thought you said it was your job to look after us."

"It is, but I'm delegating."

"What's del . . . dele . . . '"

"Delegating. That's where you do what I say. You gotta take care of your sister. You're older."

"Yeah, 'cuz I'm nine and she's six."

"Like I said, you're older," Leo kidded as he turned his attention back to his little brother. "Now Scotty, let's go to the bathroom and get you ready for bed."

Kathryn listened to the exchange with mixed emotions. He was going to be such a good father. How ironic.

She looked out the window, staring into the darkness of the night. She knew how much Leo was hurting inside, but didn't know what to do about it. The look on her son's face when he found out his father wouldn't be home for his birthday was absolutely the last straw. _He's lost faith in his father, lost faith he'll ever change, _she thought._ God, please help me get him through this,_ she prayed silently.

As she finished washing the dishes, Kathryn suddenly realized what needed to be done . . . Thomas McGarry would never take their son for granted again. She sat down at the table to wait, and steeled herself for when her husband next walked through the door.

Leo took his brother and two little sisters to the bathroom, helped them brush their teeth, and get into their pajamas. As he put them to bed, he thought sadly that it was quite possible that he had become the only father they would ever have. After he kissed each of them goodnight and turned out the lights, Leo poked his head into his oldest sister's room and found her sitting on the edge of the bed. "Josie? I just wanted to say goodnight, and . . . thanks for not picking on me too much about the driving thing."

She looked up and nodded. "Do you think Dad will ever stop drinking, Leo?" she asked.

He slowly stepped inside and sat down beside her. "I don't know, Jo. When I ask Mom, she just says he's a good man and he works hard to put clothes on our backs. I guess that's right. But every time she says that, I wonder if fathers aren't supposed to do more than that for their kids." Leo fell silent as he stared out the window, searching for an answer to give his younger sister. "Maybe he just doesn't care enough to put the bottle down."

"Yeah." She looked contemplatively at her brother. "Do you think we'll ever end up like him?"

And there it was. The one great fear in their lives . . . following in their father's footsteps into that downward spiral, just as he had followed his father. Leo shook his head slowly. "I don't know, Josie, but I sure hope not. I want to be around to watch my kids grow up . . . I don't want my kids to go through what we've been through."

She didn't look convinced, but finally responded, "Yeah."

The worried look on her face troubled Leo. He was doing everything he knew how to comfort her, but it was a difficult task, considering he was as unsure as she was. "Try not to worry, okay?" He looked into eyes that threatened to flood at any moment, then eased his way off the bed. "Here, lie down," he encouraged. As he leaned over to tuck her in, she reached up and hugged him fiercely, pulling him down on the bed again.

"Don't ever leave us, Leo," she sobbed.

"Hey! Easy there, Jo." When he realized she wasn't playing, Leo wrapped his arms around his oldest sister. "Shhh, shhh. Come on now," he rubbed her back. "What's all this?" He tried kidding, "Where's that tough kid I know, the one who stole the Milk Duds, then hit me when I made her give 'em back?" Josie cried into his shoulder harder, holding on for dear life, something she hadn't done in a long, long time. It was painfully obvious that she was having a hard time right now, and Leo knew she needed reassurance. Kissing her gently on the forehead he whispered, "I love you, Jo. I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, and I'm sure as heck not going to let anything happen to you or Scotty or Liz or Mo."

Josie sniffled as her breathing caught and assumed an irregular staccato rhythm. She loosened her grip slightly, and half laughed, half cried, "I did hit you pretty hard, didn't I?"

"Yeah," Leo chuckled. "I think I still have the bruise."

"You deserved it," she laughed as she leaned away from her brother. "All I wanted was a couple of 'em."

He smiled back, "Yeah, but you took the whole box. And you didn't ask first. It's the principle of the thing, Josie." He brushed the pad of his thumb gently across her cheek to wipe the remaining tears from her face. "You okay now?"

"Yeah, I guess," she nodded.

Leo stood up to tuck her in once again, "See ya in the morning, okay?"

"Okay," she sniffed. "Good night, Leo. I love you."

She was only twelve, but at times like this, seemed so much older to him. "I love you too, Kiddo." He clicked the lights off and quietly closed the door.

When Leo got to his room, he shut the door and collapsed onto the bed. He didn't ever remember being this tired - the emotions of the day had completely exhausted him. He slipped out of his jeans and crawled under the quilt, not bothering to change out of his boxers and t-shirt. The bed was warm and inviting, and soon, he drifted off to sleep.


	10. Ch 9 Long Day's Journey Into Night

**Long Day's Journey Into Night**

Leo wasn't exactly sure what woke him, but then he heard it . . . there were voices downstairs. Loud voices. His Mom? _And Dad . . ._ He turned on the light and looked at the clock on the night stand. _What are they talking about at two in the morning? Mom's yelling. Oh God, Dad's drunk_. Leo grabbed his jeans off the floor, then crossed to the door and opened it. Josie was standing in her doorway looking out. "Get back in your room and shut the door," he ordered. She gave him a long look, but knew better than to argue with her brother tonight.

As she closed the door, Leo pulled his jeans on, then moved closer to the stairs and listened. "All he wanted was to be with you tonight, Thomas, and you couldn't even make it home in time to share his birthday cake!"

"He understands, Kate," came the answer.

"No, he doesn't! Your son had been looking forward to this day for over a year. You knew that!" Leo began to get scared. He had never heard his mother this angry.

"I had to meet Johnny," Thomas lied.

"You need to apologize."

"Fine. So I'm sorry," he walked away.

"I'm not the one you need to apologize to, Thomas."

Now it was his turn to be angry. "Leo's not a little kid anymore, Kate! He's gotta get used to disappointment and heartache in life."

"He's already had too much practice there, hasn't he?" she sniped.

"I work long hours everyday, five, six, seven days a week. I bring home a check that provides for you and your kids. What more do you want of me?" he questioned.

"I want you to be a husband and father!" There was no holding back now. "Do you know who tucked your children into bed tonight? Your son, Leo. He carried Maureen, Elizabeth, and Scotty upstairs, got them into their pajamas, and put them to bed. Do you have any idea how many nights he's done that? Do you know how many times he has been their only father?" Her words hung in the air, cold and hard. "You can't do this to them anymore, Thomas. You can't do it to_ him_. He needs you!"

Thomas stared at his wife but said nothing. Kathryn continued, "A man called here today. He said he worked for the _Boston Globe_. He said you were on the take, and were responsible for the McFarland verdict being overturned. He also said that you were forced into it because you were being blackmailed for having an affair with McFarland's daughter. Is it true? Is it, Thomas?" His silence was damning, but she wasn't finished with him yet. "He said you threatened a guy on McFarland's behalf because he owed him money, and that you told him if he didn't give it up he'd be sorry. Is that where you got all that extra cash? Is that why you're never home? Is that what you were doing tonight? Who was it, Thomas?"

He looked away, not wanting her to see the truth. "Be quiet about that, Kate," he warned.

"What have you done, Thomas?" she questioned.

"I said be quiet!" he yelled.

"Thomas! Tell me!" Kathryn McGarry had never been this angry at her husband.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"What does that mean?" She studied her husband – he was lying. "You know, Thomas, I think you know exactly what I'm talking about."

Finally, unable to hold back, Thomas cried, "I had to do it!"

Kathryn shook her head slowly as she realized that after all these years, after all they had been through together, she didn't know him anymore. "Are you telling me . . ." she paused. "Are you telling me that you've been having an affair, and on top of it, you're guilty of taking bribes, and perjuring yourself?" Slowly, she recognized the true impact of his admission. "Thomas, if they find out, if they prove it, you'll go to jail and they'll take everything we own! Are you out of your mind? How could you possibly do that to us?" she screamed.

Leo's eyes grew wide with fear. No one had ever talked to his father like this, certainly not his mother. He held his breath. Suddenly, there was a sound that he had never heard before in their house. Leo's stomach dropped: Thomas McGarry had slapped his wife.

Immediately, Leo bounded down the stairs and flew into the kitchen. There, his father was standing over his mother, hand drawn back ready to strike again. Without thinking, Leo sprang at his father, and caught him off-guard. They tumbled to the floor, son on top of father. The adrenaline that coursed through his body made Leo's movements quicker than normal, but he still had to fight hard to pin his dad's arms.

"Let me up, Leo!" Thomas bellowed as he struggled against his son's hold.

Leo could smell the mix of Scotch and cigarettes on his father's breath. He knew his father was drunk, but still, he refused to let go. "No, Dad! I'm not going to let you hit Mom again!"

The fifteen year-old was definitely scrappy, but Thomas out-weighed his son by fifty pounds. His years on the police force and a tour of duty in the Marines had taught him more than a few things about self-defense. As drunk as he was, instinct kicked in. In a move so quick Leo couldn't react, Thomas flipped his son onto his back, knocking the wind out of him. As he straddled his son's chest, pinning Leo's arms with his knees in the process, Thomas McGarry drew his fist back. Kathryn screamed in horror, "Thomas, stop!"

"No, Dad!" Leo tried desperately to block what he knew was coming, but couldn't free his arms. There was a sickening thud as the force of Thomas' punch connected with his son's jaw, snapping his head back violently against the floor. Leo fought hard to stay conscious, to lift his head, but the effort was too great. He watched helplessly as his father drew back once more. It would be the last thing Leo saw before his father's fist headed toward him again . . . with one final blow, Leo McGarry's world went black.


	11. Ch 10 Temp Problem, Permanent Solution

**Temporary Problem, Permanent Solution**

For a long time, Leo felt like he was floating, as if he was under water. He wasn't sure how much time had passed, but wherever this was, he felt safe, like being held in his mother's arms. "Leo? Leo, Dear can you hear me?" Someone was talking to him, but it sounded miles away. He decided that whoever it was should just leave him alone - he liked it here - it was warm, comfortable, inviting.

"Leo?" he heard again, as something cool was placed on his forehead. "Come on, Honey, open your eyes." He tried to obey, but his eyelids were so very heavy. "Leo!" There was a hand on his shoulder now, trying to shake him awake. It was a monumental effort, but slowly, his eyes fluttered open. He tried hard to focus on the face before him, but his left eye didn't want to cooperate.

"Mom?" he whispered. Leo's head hurt and it was difficult to talk. There was a ringing in his ears that just wouldn't go away. Painfully, he rolled his head to the right and saw his father sitting on the floor, back against the wall. Thomas was staring at his oldest son, in fact, he was looking right through him. There, reflected in Thomas' eyes was the horrible recognition of what he had just done. As long as Leo could remember, his father had never hit any of them in anger. They had been spanked to be sure, but never more intense or longer than necessary to discipline. Most times it never got to that – a look was all that any of them needed to get the message. Thomas McGarry had never once been out of control with his children, and more importantly, he had never laid a hand on his wife . . . until tonight.

"Can you get up, Leo?" his mother asked.

"I don't know," he admitted. Slowly, Leo rolled onto his side and pushed himself to a sitting position. Kathryn put a hand under her son's arm to help him stand. "Mom?" he said, as a wave of nausea washed over him. Panicking, he grabbed the kitchen table and held on for dear life. He was dizzy, his vision was blurry, and there was a nagging numbness creeping into his right arm. Darkness played at the edge of his mind, threatening to send him back into unconsciousness.

"Sit down, Leo," she said, quickly guiding him to a chair. He sat heavily and immediately put his head down on the table. He didn't know if he was going to pass out or throw up, but as he tried to calm his breathing, it was leaning toward the latter. Kathryn grabbed the dish cloth she'd been using to wipe Leo's brow and ran it under cold water. She stepped back to the table and laid it across his neck, then headed to the refrigerator and grabbed a tray of ice cubes. She moved quickly to put them in a dish towel, and placed the pack on the growing lump on the back of her son's head. Leo shivered at the touch of the intense cold. "I'm going to call the doctor."

"No, Mom. Please don't," he whispered. The last thing Leo wanted was for anyone to know his father had hit him . . . and his mother.

"Leo, you're hurt."

He took the ice pack off and lifted his head. "I'll be okay, Mom," he managed, though there was nothing in his current state that indicated it was the truth.

The shock of what she saw set her off again. "Look at what you've done, Thomas. Look at him!" Thomas barely raised his head to look at his son. He had only hit Leo twice, but the damage inflicted in those two blows was considerable. Blood now flowed unabated from a cut on Leo's lip, dripping onto his t-shirt. His left eye, nearly swollen shut, was already turning black. Horrified, Thomas looked away.

Kathryn took the ice pack from Leo and placed the damp washcloth over his lip in an effort to control the bleeding. "Can you stand?"

"I'm not sure. I'll try," he mumbled through the cloth. Leo struggled to his feet, swaying slightly. For the first time, he tasted the blood in his mouth. Now there no doubt – he was going to throw up, but not here, not in front of his father.

"Do you want to help your son to his room?" Kathryn looked over, but her husband never moved. "Thomas? It's the least you can do."

"Mom, it's okay. He couldn't help it." Somehow through the haze of his own pain, Leo still managed to feel sorry for his father.

"Thomas?" There was no reaction from her husband. She sighed, resigned, "Then, I guess we don't have anything else to say to one another." Leo and his mother headed toward his room, but when they reached the bottom of the stairs, he paused, wondering whether or not he could make it to the top. He grabbed the banister in one hand, his mother's arm in the other. As they slowly ascended the stairs, Leo heard the door to the garage slam.

"Mom, are you okay?" he said as he caught the first look at her cheek. It was glowing bright red from where she'd been slapped.

"I'm fine, Leo. Don't worry." Now it was Kathryn's turn to lie. She wouldn't let her son down, not here, not now.

They made it to his room just in time for Leo's legs to give out. He managed to land on the bed, but the sudden, jarring impact served to jolt his system again. The room began to spin wildly, and finally, unable to control it any longer, he wretched into his waste basket.

"It's alright, Leo," she soothed. Kathryn held his head as violent spasms shook his body. After a few minutes, Leo settled back onto his pillow. "Just hold that ice on your eye. I'll be right back," she promised as she carried the soiled waste basket out of the room.

"Mom, what are we going to do?" he croaked.

Kathryn hesitated in the doorway, "I don't know, Leo." Finally, she continued to the bathroom and closed the door. Leo could hear his mother through the wall, crying. _'Why did he do this to her? If he loves her, why would he do this? God, why won't you help her?'_ he thought.

Just then, Leo heard a muffled bang downstairs. He struggled to his feet and opened the door to find his mother running down the hall. "Mom, what is it?"

"Get back in your room, Leo!" The fear in her voice scared him. He watched as his mother disappeared down the stairs. _Why was she so frightened?_

Josie had heard too and opened her door. Suddenly, a sickening realization settled around Leo. "Stay in your room, Josie!" He started for the garage . . .

Leo was only halfway there when he heard his mother scream. His head was aching something fierce, and throwing up had weakened him considerably, but he forced himself to run, covering the remaining distance to the garage door in just a few seconds. He stopped at the door, swaying as the blood drained from his face. What he saw in that garage would haunt him for the rest of his life. There, sitting in the middle of the floor was his mother, cradling his father's head in her lap. He took what he hoped would be a calming breath and tentatively moved to her side. Somehow, Leo already knew what he would find, he just didn't know if he could handle it. He glanced down and got his first real look at his father. "Oh no, Mom," he groaned. There, where the back of Thomas McGarry's head should be was a gaping hole.

"Leo, no! Get out of here! You shouldn't see him this way," she pleaded. Leo noted with some detachment that his father still held his service revolver in his hand. Strange that a gun so seemingly small could do that much damage.

"Mom?" He said quietly as he reached for his mother's shoulder. "Mom, we should call somebody."

Kathryn McGarry rocked back and forth. "Don't leave us, Thomas, please don't leave us," she repeated over and over as she stroked her husband's forehead.

"Mom?" _No answer._ "Mom, please . . . " Leo finally realized his mother was no longer listening. He had to get some help. As he turned, he found his oldest sister standing in the doorway. "Josie, I told you to stay upstairs!" he yelled as he grabbed his head in pain. He moved as quickly as he could to get his sister back in the house.

"What happened to your face?" she said.

Ignoring her question Leo said, "I gotta call Father Kavanaugh now. Go upstairs, Jo."

"Is Daddy . . . is he dead?"

"Yeah. Now go on, and check on Scotty and Liz and Mo. Stay up there till I come get you."

"I'm scared, Leo," she admitted.

He turned to his sister and seeing the tears fill her eyes, Leo reached for her. "It'll be okay, Jo. I told you I would never let anything happen to you and the others, right?" He had promised her such a short time ago. "We gotta be strong for Mom now, okay? Okay?" She nodded and hugged him tightly. "Go on, go upstairs."

As Josie made her way to the stairs, Leo picked up the phone and dialed the parish number. "Father Kavanaugh? This is Leo McGarry. I'm sorry to call so late, but something's happened . . . at the house . . . It's my Dad. He's dead . . . yeah, with a gun . . . Could you come over? . . . Thank you, Father."

Leo grabbed a quilt from the front closet and returned to the garage. Kathryn didn't move when he placed the quilt on her shoulders. As he sat down and wrapped his arms around her, she reached up with one hand and absently stroked her son's hair. Mumbling, Kathryn said something Leo didn't quite understand. "Mom, what did you say about Dad and Shaun?" he asked, but she had fallen silent again.

It seemed like forever to Leo before Father Kavanaugh arrived. He found them in the garage, sitting huddled together. "Kathryn?" the young priest tried. Leo looked up at the name, but his mother never moved.

"Father Kavanaugh, Mom's not saying much right now." Leo knew enough about what was happening to know that she had gone into shock.

The priest saw young McGarry's face and moved closer to assess the damage. He knelt down and crossed himself, "Leo, my Son. What in the world happened?"

Just as he was about to answer, two police officers appeared at the door. The first walked to where Leo and his mother were sitting. Observing the scene, he finally turned back to his partner, "It's McGarry. Go call it in, then come back and stay with her." The officer stared hard at Leo, and after a few moments said, "I'm Sergeant Frances. Your neighbor was going to work and heard the shot. Why didn't you call us?"

"I don't know. I guess the first person I thought of was Father Kavanaugh," Leo tried to explain.

"I'll need you to step inside with me." It was obvious to Leo that this officer had seen enough dead men in his life; he never even gave Thomas a second glance. He seemed much more intent on talking with Leo.

"Please," Leo begged. "I don't want to leave her."

"Let's go, Kid," the officer insisted.

The young priest looked at Leo and nodded, motioning towards the open door. Leo kissed his mother lightly on the cheek and struggled to his feet. When a wave of dizziness overcame him, Father Kavanaugh grabbed an arm to keep him from falling.

"Easy does it . . . I've got you . . . that's it, that's it, slowly now," the priest encouraged as Leo tried to find his legs again. They carefully made their way to the kitchen door, but as they reached the two small steps that would take them inside, Leo paused. He realized he was having a difficult time judging distance now and couldn't quite find the bottom step. Lifting his right foot, he found himself leaning into his priest for support. Father Kavanaugh felt the added weight on his arm. "That's good, Leo, slow and easy, one step at a time," he whispered.

When they were inside, safely out of earshot, the sergeant questioned Leo. "Okay, so what happened here?"

Leo could hear him speaking but couldn't quite make out what he was saying. He was still having problems focusing, and the ringing in his ears was getting worse. "Huh?" was all he could manage to say.

"Tell us what happened, Leo," Father Kavanaugh encouraged as he continued to hold the young man's arm.

Leo closed his eyes in an attempt to ward off the dizziness. "Dad shot himself," he managed.

"Shot himself?" Father Kavanaugh looked grave. "My Son, are you sure?

"Yeah. I'm sure."

"What happened to your face?" asked Frances.

"Mom and Dad had a fight, and I tried to stop it."

"Weren't too successful there, were you, Mick?" Frances observed.

He shot a look at the officer . . . _that_ he heard. Oh, it certainly wasn't the first time part of his heritage had been maligned, but he responded as calmly and evenly as possible. "My name's Leo. Sir."

"What happened after that, Leo?" Father Kavanaugh continued, ignoring the officer's prejudiced remark.

"Dad punched me and knocked me out. When I came to, he was sitting on the floor staring at me. Mom got me upstairs and I heard the door to the garage slam. Couple minutes later, there was a bang. Mom ran out to the garage, and I followed her. Dad was on the floor with his gun in his hand." Leo was already detaching himself from the situation. Maybe deep down inside, he knew it would end like this, either by his father's own hand or someone else's.

"That's a lot of blood you got on your shirt there, Kid." Frances observed.

Leo tried to look down at himself but couldn't make his head, much less his eyes cooperate. "I guess so, Sir. Must be from my lip. It was bleedin' pretty bad."

Frances stepped directly in front of Leo. "You sure you didn't do this?" he questioned.

Leo stared at him blankly. "Wh . . . what do you mean?"

"I mean did you do this?" he accused.

"Do what?" Leo hesitated, his foggy mind trying desperately to fathom the sergeant's meaning. "Wait. You think . . . you think I shot my own Dad?" he stumbled.

"He fought with your Mom. Looks like he hit her. He definitely hit you. You coulda been angry enough," Frances concluded.

"I was angry," he admitted, becoming a little panicked. "But I was also with Mom upstairs when it happened! He shot himself!" Leo tried to turn his head to face Father Kavanaugh, but he couldn't. "Father, you believe me don't you?" he cried.

The priest nodded, "Of course, my Son."

Eyeing Leo, Frances finally backed off, "Okay, Kid. I'll talk to your mom, see if her story matches yours. Don't go anywhere." He turned on his heel and disappeared through the door.

"Father?" Leo cried desperately.

"It will be fine, Leo. Don't worry," he reassured.

Leo stared at the floor and sadly shook his head.

"My Son, we need to talk," Father Kavanaugh said as he guided the injured young man to sit at the table. "You know that I'm very sorry about what happened to your father tonight." Leo looked up. "But I cannot give him last rites. He cannot be buried in your family plot, on consecrated ground."

Leo was still having problems focusing and the priest's words had caught him off-guard. "I don't understand, Father. What do you mean?" he frowned.

"What Thomas has done to himself is considered a mortal sin by the Church. People who commit mortal sins are not entitled to receive last rites." The priest stared at the young man sitting next to him with a profound sadness in his eyes.

Leo looked crestfallen, finally comprehending not only what his priest was saying, but what his mother had said in the garage. Panic set in as he pleaded, "Father, there's got to be a way! You can't let him go to Hell. He wasn't a bad man, Father Kavanaugh. Please!"

"There is only one way, but you have to understand what it means," he started carefully. "You will have to sign a document that makes certain claims about your father."

Leo swallowed hard, trying to calm himself as he considered the implications of what that might mean. Quietly he asked, "What exactly does the document say?"

"For one thing it says that your father was not in his right mind when he killed himself."

A frown creased Leo's forehead. "You mean I gotta say Dad was crazy? Is that what the Church says I gotta do?" The haunted look in Leo's eyes only served to accentuate the damage done that night, and made him look much older than his fifteen years.

"Yes, Leo. It's complicated. But it is the law of the Church.

"Are you saying . . . are you saying that if I don't do this, he can't be buried next to my little brother Shaun . . . he can't be buried next to his own son?" The priest slowly nodded. "And my Mom's not going to be able to be buried next to her husband?" Leo's voice rose until the priest could no longer hold his gaze. "That's not right, Father!"

"It's the law of the Church," he reiterated. "I know it seems unfair to you, but you must do this to save your father's soul, Leo. You must," he insisted.

"The Church can go hang itself!" Leo was vehement now.

"Leo, I underst . . ."

"No! No, you don't understand!" The anger that had been building all night finally boiled over in Leo's voice. "All my life I've been told that if I prayed and did good things and was a good and devout Catholic that God would take care of us. But he didn't." A single tear slid down Leo's face. "Where was He when my Dad got drunk and hit my Mom? Where was He, when my Dad put a gun to his head?" he yelled. "How come He wasn't there for them, Father?"

"God has been, and will always be there for them . . . and for you. You just don't see it right now. But Leo, you must have faith."

Leo shook his head, no longer willing to listen. "How come He let my baby brother die? How come He let my father kill himself?" his voice caught. "What kind of God lets those things happen to my Mother?" As a flood of tears began to roll down his cheeks, he searched his priest's eyes for some sort of comfort. When none came, Leo slowly bowed his head. He realized there would never be an answer that would satisfy the questions he had, that would quell the anger he felt. His father had just taken his own life, and the one thing that Leo had always turned to, the Church, had just abandoned him. In one defining moment, he made a decision that would change his life forever. As the light slowly faded from his eyes, Leo said quietly, "I'll sign the paper because of my Mother. But Father Kavanaugh, I'm never going back to the Church. Never . . ."


	12. Ch 11 Time for Truth

**Time for Truth**

White House Chief of Staff Leo McGarry slowly opened his eyes as the memories of that horrible day 40 years ago faded away. He found himself cold and shaking, trying to regain his bearings in the present. His gaze fixed on the plaque once again. He stared at it as if he could see through the wall of the Kennedy Chapel, as if he looked long enough, answers would simply present themselves. "You know what, Dad?" he questioned. "Mom was wrong when she said we were two of a kind. I may be an alcoholic, but I'm nothing like you. You took the easy way out," he accused. "It's a hell of a lot harder for those of us who have to keep trying."

He put his hand on the door and pushed it open_. Double set of doors, to keep the noise out I guess,_ he thought. He cracked open the next set of doors, peering in. No one was there. Good. What he had to say, it was . . . well, it was private. He went to the front of the small chapel, hesitated, then crossed himself and sat down. Nice and quiet, just what he needed.

Jed, Abbey, and Jenny, with a secret service entourage in tow, had also taken a short walk which lead them past the chapel. Jed had noticed it earlier, and had gone in to offer a prayer and light a candle for his best friend's daughter. As they turned the corner and made their way back to the waiting room, Jed hesitated at the door once again. The two ladies sensed that he had stopped and looked back. Jed certainly hadn't seen Leo enter the chapel, yet there was something that pulled him to it. Without saying a word, he motioned for Abbey and Jenny to join him.

The three friends stood silently at the back of the small chapel. Leo hadn't heard them come in - he was too caught up in his own thoughts. A look passed between them, wondering if they should make their presence known. Jed nodded toward the last pew. Silently they crossed themselves, and moved quietly into it.

After a long pause, Leo looked up toward the altar and took a deep breath. He hesitated a moment, then began softly, "Guess it's been a while, huh? Oh, I know what you're thinking . . . 'Poor Leo, coming to me as a last resort because you've run out of friends and family to alienate?'" Leo let a small chuckle escape. "Yeah, well. Guess you'd be right about that."

Leo stared at his folded hands. "You know, after what happened to Dad, I lost faith in you and I swore I'd never come back, but . . . guess I don't know what to do anymore," he admitted. "Seems I've hurt everyone I love."

Jed and Jenny exchanged glances. _Maybe we shouldn't be here, _they thought. Jenny motioned to him with her thumb, _should we go?_ Jed shook his head. It was far too late now.

They turned their attention back to Leo. "My best friend Jed? I almost hit him today, but you know that, right? He tried to stop me from going to Mallory's school when I found out she'd been shot, and I grabbed him and almost hit him. This man who's done nothing but stand by me my entire life, picked me up out of the gutter when I was so drunk I couldn't stand up any more. This man I love more than . . ." He choked on the words. " . . . who means more to me than he'll ever know. I would have knocked him out right there in the Oval Office if I hadn't hesitated, hadn't seen the look in his eyes . . . if I hadn't thought about what Dad did to me. I mean, it was just a split second . . . I guess if it hadn't been for Ron grabbing my hand . . . I don't know . . .," his voice trailed off.

After a moment, he continued, "They wouldn't let me leave, so you know what I did? I went to my office and typed up a letter asking for an indefinite leave of absence. Just typed it up and threw it on his desk. He deserved an explanation, but I just dropped it on his desk and walked out."

"He got mad at me, told me I was a lying coward. Isn't that something? Me . . ."

"Then he reminded me of a promise I made to see him through his Presidency, told me that there was no way he was gonna let me leave. I told him he had to, if he didn't, I'd resign, but he pulled the 'I'm the President, you go when I say you go' routine out on me."

Leo considered what his resignation would do to Jed. "I don't know that I could ever leave him under normal circumstances, but these aren't normal circumstances are they? Whatever normal is." He stared at the floor, quietly adding, "And I guess I did promise to see him through to the end, didn't I?"

He contemplated for a few moments, then added, "Jed and Abbey are my best friends, they've always been there for me." He stopped at the mention of her name. "Abbey. My God, Abbey," he choked out. "You know, I was responsible for her almost losing her baby girl Zoey." Abbey squeezed Jed's hand tightly. "She told me she blamed Jed, but it wasn't him . . . it was me," Leo said, voice shaking. "I'm the one who convinced him to kill Shareef. Me, and because of what I did, Abbey said she didn't trust me anymore. Hated everything about me. We've been working hard on getting our friendship back, but I'm not sure if it'll ever be the same. At one point, I had the feeling that if she could've found a way to get rid of me she would have. I'd have given anything to change that, but . . . she couldn't stand to look at me, much less be in the same room or talk to me." He whispered, "She didn't understand that I would have traded my life in order to get Zoey back safely."

After a long pause, he finally continued, "When Jed invoked the Twenty-fifth, gave up his Presidency to Walken? Everyone thought I would know what to do."

Jed looked at Jenny as he remembered saying those exact words to his cabinet members when they questioned the possible conflicting loyalties Leo might experience. _"Leo will know what to do . . ." _

"It's funny, but it turns out I did know what to do . . . I just couldn't get anyone to listen," he whispered.

"I mean, I held everything together as best I could, but when Walken decided to attack Qumar, I lost it," he admitted. "I yelled and told everyone in the Sit Room that if we bombed Qumar, they'd kill Zoey. Walken said they were 'going to kill her anyway.' Never looked at me, just stared straight ahead." Leo fell silent. "'They're going to kill her anyway.' Guess that's when I realized that I was the only one in the room who truly cared whether Zoey Bartlet lived or died." The pain in Leo's voice tore at Abbey's heart. She had been so wrapped up in her own anger and pain that she hadn't realized until now just how compromised and helpless Leo must have felt during Walken's short presidency. Her grip on Jed's hand grew tighter, breathing more shallow as she too remembered that awful time of uncertainty.

"It's been hard, this thing with Abbey. I mean after everything we've been through together . . . good times, bad times, everything in between. We've watched each other's kids grow up . . . all the memories we've shared. Abbey and Jed are Mallory's Godparents, Jenny and I are the girls'. But I guess maybe none of that really matters any more." Leo wasn't holding back now. "She and I always had a certain understanding of things. When everything else was going to Hell in a handbasket, there was always trust between us. If Abbey and Jed argued to the point they couldn't talk to each other, she always knew that she could talk to me. They both knew they could count on me. Maybe we'll get that back someday. I don't know, I hope so."

He sat for a long time in silence before he continued. "I don't think she'll ever completely forgive me, but I suppose I don't blame her." Finally, Leo admitted, "It's hard to ask her to forgive me when I can't forgive myself." Abbey felt a tear slide down her cheek as she realized how sincere and heart-felt those words were.

Leo looked up, and his face brightened slightly. "Jenny's here. It's so good to see her again, even under these circumstances. I guess you don't realize how much you've missed someone until they show up in your life again." He couldn't keep the disappointment, the regret from his voice. "She got on with her life after our divorce, married again. Lucky guy. Mallory said that he makes her happy, and I suppose that's all I want for her. Still, it's hard."

"You know, when Jenny found out what happened to Mallory, found out the guy was out to get me, she slapped me. Had a right to. I couldn't say anything. I wanted so much to tell her that I was sorry . . . sorry for what happened to Mal . . . for everything I'd done to her. My God, what I've done to Jenny." His voice was full of despair, remembering years of alcohol and neglect. "She didn't deserve the life she had with me. She was so . . . I put her through so much."

"I'm still not sure whether I ever did say I was sorry. Probably the only time I did, I was trying to grovel my way back into her life." There were many nights he did just that, promising to change, only to screw up the following night. "All the late nights, the nights I never came home because I was working, because I was drunk off my ass." Leo shot a glance at the altar, a little embarrassed now. "Sorry, guess I shouldn't have said that in here." He looked down at his folded hands, at the ring he still wore there. "She stayed with me a lot longer than I deserved," he said softly.

"Now her daughter is lying in the hospital with two holes in her because someone hated me enough to . . . he could have killed her. He coulda killed the little kids at her school. And now those kids are somehow expected to get over the fact that a crazy man came into their school with a gun and tried to kill their teacher. All because of me."

"When will it be enough? Josh wasn't enough, Jed wasn't. Mom, my baby brother, Mrs. Landingham, a tender ship full of sailors, countless kids in hundreds of countries. Dad . . .," he whispered. "Mallory's a good kid, she didn't deserve this. She's never done anything to hurt anyone. You know, she could have done anything with her life, could have been anything she wanted, and she chose to be a teacher. She's dedicated her life to educating kids, to sticking up for those kids when they didn't have a voice." For the first time Leo's voice began to rise in anger. "She's tried to help people along the way, to live a good life, and she gets this?"

He thought about his experience in the emergency room, "You know I talked with Mal before she went to surgery. She told me to jeep the faith, but I gotta tell you, this . . . this thing has just about sealed the deal."

Leo sat and stared at his folded hands. Quietly he admitted, "I know I have a lot of things to answer for. I've tried to live the best life I knew how . . . with honor, integrity, loyalty . . . faith. I haven't always succeeded, in fact, I've fallen woefully short at times. But I never gave up." He looked up toward the altar. "That's what you like, right? 'God helps those who help themselves?', somethin' like that."

His voice wavered, "I just don't know if I can do it anymore. I'm so tired." A hand rubbed wearily across his now beard-stubbled face and came to rest over his eyes. "Maybe I did give up. Maybe I gave up on myself, on Jed, Abbey . . . on Jenny." The three friends looked at each other, regret in their eyes.

"Maybe I gave up on you too. I guess I don't know what you want me to do," Leo confessed. He'd always wondered what God had in store for him after that fateful day, forty years ago. "Have I done anything of worth to anybody? I mean, have I really made a difference? In even one life?"

Jed shook his head at Jenny and Abbey_. How can he possibly believe he hasn't made a difference? _Jed thought.

"You know, there are times that I question why you even put me on this planet." Leo looked up. "But you don't really have an answer for that one do you?" The silence in the chapel was deafening. A wry smile crossed his lips. "Yeah, that's what I thought."

"Anyway. I know I don't have the right, but I guess I just wanted to ask you to, you know, look out for my kid." It was as close as he would come to a prayer. "And . . . I'd appreciate it if you could see yourself clear to watch over Jenny, and Abbey and Jed, and Jordon too. They've all been through so much because of me." He stared at the floor. "And, I don't know exactly what's going on with Tommy yet, but it wouldn't hurt to send a little help his way too." Then, a whisper, "Just keep an eye on them, would you please?"

Leo sighed heavily and buried his face in his hands. His back ached from standing all night, waiting. He was tired, yes, but it really had more to do with his mental state than his physical state. After all, he'd been through all-day, all-night strategy meetings, budget conferences, waiting for word on the status of any number of bills and verdicts . . . he'd flown fighter jets in a war. And, he never left the White House during those three horrible days, as he waited for word to come of his best friend's youngest daughter. But this was different. The events of the day, Mallory fighting for her life, his complicity in the matter, remembering his father's death, and his confession in the chapel had left him completely exhausted. Leo McGarry was tired with a weariness that cut through to his very soul.

Gathering himself, he rose from the pew and stepped into the aisle. He moved to the front of the chapel and lit a candle for his daughter. Saying a short prayer, he started to turn, but hesitated as his gaze was held by a shaft of light bouncing off of the crucifix over the altar. Genuflecting, he crossed himself and, finally turned to find three sets of eyes on him. He stopped dead in his tracks. _Ah, Holy Hell, when did they get here?_ After what seemed like an eternity Leo whispered, "How long have you been here?"

They looked at each other, none wanting to admit what they'd heard, or how they'd intruded on what should have been a private conversation. Finally, Jed spoke. "We've been here since you said, 'Guess it's been a while . . .'"

_Dammit!_ Leo looked away, not wanting to face them. _They'd heard everything then. _ He was looking for somewhere to run.

"You know, you're not to blame, Leo. Zoey wasn't your fault. Josh and I were not your fault," Jed comforted.

"Mallory's not your fault either, Leo," Abbey added.

"Don't Abbey. Just . . . don't. I don't want your pity. I'd rather have your anger than your pity. At least that's honest." The words stung Abbey. She was feeling empathy for him, but pity? Never.

"Leo?" Jenny began. "I shouldn't have hit you. I was just upset. Mallory's going to be okay. She's a fighter, just like her Dad."

He couldn't bring himself to look at them. It _was_ his fault, and their words of solace only served to increase his anger. Looking at the floor, Leo quietly said, "I have to get back."


	13. Ch 12 Unexpected Arrival

Unexpected Arrival 

They had heard his most intimate secrets, his admissions, his fears, and his faults. _Why did they end up in the chapel with me tonight?_ Just one more in a long line of jokes God seemed to be intent on playing on Leo these days. If he ever made it to Heaven, he figured to spend his five minutes talking to God about His serious lack of timing. As he stared out the window into the dark night, he sensed someone had joined him in the waiting room.

"Hey, Weo. How 'bout a biggyback ride?" a voice behind him said.

Leo caught the reflection in the window and smiled in spite of himself. "Don't you think you're a little old to be asking for a ride? And it's still 'piggyback.'"

"Piggyback," he corrected. "Well you can't blame a kid for trying."

He turned and faced his little brother. "What the hell are you doing here? You go AWOL or somethin'?"

Scotty grabbed his chest with his right hand and put on his best mock indignant look. "I'll have you know, I was summoned by our Commander in Chief."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah. Besides, I was in the neighborhood," he kidded.

"Really? And just how long did it take you to get into the neighborhood?"

"Fourteen hours . . . two jets, one shuttle, and a secret service escorted Presidential limo."

"How'd you find out, and how'd you get here from wherever it was you were stationed?"

"The Air Force still has a pretty good communications system, Leo, even in Iceland. And, it appears as though your best friend's voice carries a little weight with my immediate supervisors."

"Yeah, I guess he does have some pull."

"Yeah. I guess. So how ya doing?"

"I'm fine," Leo lied.

"Really? 'Cause you look like crap."

Leo chuckled, "Yeah, well, it's a set. I feel like crap."

"All right then." Scotty made his way across the room. "Leo," he whispered as he gathered his brother in his arms. They stood holding each other for a long time, each taking comfort in the warm embrace. Scotty finally pulled away. "Any word on Mal?"

Leo sniffed, swiping at tear in his eye, "They've been updating us every hour, but they said it was probably going to take a while. Abbey guessed that it would be at least ten hours, maybe more. Guess it depends on what they found when they got in there."

"What are her injuries?"

"She has two wounds. She was shot in the leg, mostly muscle damage, no bone. They said there wasn't any arterial damage, but they didn't really say what they'd do with it. Said therapy would be the only thing she'd have to do. The other is a shoulder wound."

"Where? How high?" Scotty questioned.

"Back, right side, kind of in line with her collarbone. No exit. They said it hit her shoulder blade."

"Mmm. Well could be a couple of different things going on then. If it did hit her shoulder blade or any bone for that matter, the probability that the bone as well as the bullet shattered is extremely high. In that case . . . "

"There could be pieces everywhere," Leo finished the thought.

"Yeah."

"Like?" He was scared of finding out, but was terrified of not knowing.

Scotty didn't hold back. "Like lungs, heart, arteries, spine. Depending on how close the shooter was and the angle of entry, could have gone so far as the spleen, liver, and kidneys." He knew better than to sugar-coat this. Leo wouldn't have asked if he didn't want to know, and lying to him would only make matters worse if something did happen. Better to give the whole picture than look through rose colored glasses. "Hey," he raised his hand to cup the back of his brother's head, "she's tough Leo. Just like her Old Man."

"I don't feel very tough right now," Leo admitted.

"You kiddin' me?" The look in Leo's eyes said he was one step away from losing whatever control he had. Scotty considered him for a moment. "Yeah well, I gotta tell you, not to add to that over-inflated ego of yours or anything, but after twenty-five years in the Air Force, traveling all over the world, meeting people from all walks of life and getting into fights with a great many of them, you are still the toughest man I've ever met."

"Why were you getting into fights? You're a doctor, Scotty. You're not supposed to hit people."

"A euphemism, Leo," he pulled his hand away. "I didn't necessarily fight with my fists. Someone taught me a long time ago to stick up for myself but only use force when other options are no longer available."

"So, you wussied out," he looked down his nose. "Turned the other cheek."

"Sometimes both cheeks!" Scotty chuckled, "No, I hold my own when it's necessary. You'd be proud."

"I've always been proud of you Scotty. Lieutenant Colonel."

"I know. Captain."

"You like that you outrank me, don't you?"

"There are so few things in life that I've done better than you."

"Hey, you may have done it longer, but that doesn't mean that you've done it better!" he laughed. "And besides, I may only have been a Captain in the Air Force, but I still outrank you, in more ways than one. Please keep in mind, Lieutenant Colonel, that I can get you busted back to Major so fast you won't know what hit you." Pausing he added, "And I don't have an over-inflated ego. I have an over-inflated super-ego."

"Okay, okay, point taken. You have to admit though, I have done a pretty good job at being an Airman."

"Like I said, I've always been proud of you, Scott."

Changing his tack, Leo's brother asked, "Have you had anything to eat lately?"

"I'm not really hungry."

"So, that's a no."

"No," he sighed.

"How 'bout I find someone to go to the mess and get us supper, or is it breakfast?"

"Nah, that's okay."

"Listen, I haven't eaten in almost twenty-four hours, and 6 to 5 and pick 'em, you haven't eaten in at least that long. You don't eat something soon, and we're both going to be in trouble, 'cause you'll be down and I'll have to explain to the President of the United States why his Chief of Staff collapsed while in the company of his brother, the doctor."

"Wouldn't want to put you out or anything."

"Mighty gracious of you. Sir."

"Heavy on the 'Sir,' there, Airman."

"Mmm hmm. Leo, you've always taken care of everyone else. I owe you for all those lessons you taught us when we were kids. The pop quizzes at the dinner table, just being there for all of us." Scotty got a little kid grin on his face, "You know, I'll never forget how it made me feel when I was right about the candles."

"Candles?"

"Yeah, don't you remember?"

"Guess not."

"Your fifteenth birthday? When you made Mo and Liz try to figure out the math problem? You know, how many candles each of us had to put on the cake?"

"Oh yeah, you shocked all of us by coming up with the right answer. I do remember that."

"Well, I have to thank you and tell you that the math thing has come in very handy. I'm currently working on a joint project with the Army Corps of Engineers."

"Why in the world are you . . ."

". . . Working with the Army Corps of Engineers?" Leo nodded. "It's a long story," Scotty explained, "but suffice it to say, my education that included Quantum Physics and Theoretical Mathematics has come into play. Apparently, they needed a doctor who 'got it,' and I guess I was their man. Consequently, I've been spending some quality time in Iceland listening to the Reykjavik Symphony Orchestra," he joked.

"Well, that's certainly something to put on a resume," Leo smiled. "It's always a source of pride when a member of the McGarry Clan can do a job and be well entertained in the process."

He knew his brother was kidding, but Scotty looked him straight in the eye and said, "It's always been important to me to make you proud."

Leo understood, nodding, serious once again, "Like I said I've always been proud of you, Scott."

After a moment of quiet contemplation, Scotty decided to take matters into his own hands. "Hey listen. I'm going to step outside now. If it's okay with you, I'll try to find out what's going on with Mal, then maybe scare up some food for us."

"Yeah, I'd appreciate that," Leo said as he sat heavily in a well-worn chair.

"Leo?"

"Yeah?"

"I'm praying for her."

"Me too."

Scotty recognized the weariness in Leo and laid a hand on his brother's shoulder. "Be right back," he said softly. Scotty stepped into the hall and leaned against the wall. Leo was devastated, and he was hiding it. He had gotten so good at concealing his emotions, at denying what was really going on in that mind of his. Leo had their father to thank for that one.

"Scotty!"

At the sound of his name, Scotty turned to see the Commander in Chief headed toward him at a brisk pace. Little Scotty McGarry immediately became Lieutenant Colonel Scott Allen McGarry, United States Air Force. He stood ramrod straight and presented a salute so crisp, the President was slightly taken aback. He rarely saluted in passing, but knowing that Scott was so sincere in his obligation to come to attention, Jed stopped and returned the salute.

"At ease, Scotty. I wish the circumstances were different, but it is good to see you again. How are you?"

"I'm fine, Mr. President, thank you," as he shook the proffered hand.

"Scotty!" Abbey greeted him with a hug.

"Dr. Bartlet. It's nice to see you again, Ma'am."

She looked into his eyes as she held him at arm's length, "Dr. McGarry, it's Abbey, remember?"

"You're the First Lady, Ma'am. It's Dr. Bartlet."

"Okay, okay," she laughed. "Do I still get to call you Scotty?"

"Yes, Ma'am," he smiled as Abbey released him..

Scott McGarry glanced over Abbey's shoulder into the eyes of his former sister-in-law. "Hey, Jenny. How are you holding up?" he asked quietly.

"Oh, Scotty," she whispered as she took him into a warm embrace. "This has not been our finest hour."

"Yeah. I was just in with Leo. He's not looking so great."

"Leo's had a difficult time, Scotty," she paused and stepped back, "and I didn't help matters by accusing him of getting his daughter shot."

"Yeah, well. I'm sure he was well ahead of you on that one anyway." Scotty knew how hard Leo could be on himself, how hard he could be on others. But he learned a long time ago that Leo was only hard because he wanted everyone around him to reach their full potential, to not waste what they'd been given, whatever their talents. "I hope you don't mind, but a few months back, Mallory called me and filled me in on some of what happened with you and Leo. She said you were getting remarried and although Leo was putting on a brave front, the whole thing was really working on him." He stopped as Jenny looked out the window and sighed. Scotty put a supporting arm around her shoulder. "You know Jenny, I won't pretend to understand everything that's gone on with you two, but I do know one thing, and that is that he will always love you. And there's absolutely no doubt in anyone's mind how he feels about his daughter."

"I know. She's her father's daughter, there's no denying that." Jenny shyly admitted, "And I still love Leo too, Scotty, I just couldn't live with him anymore."

"Understood," Scotty agreed as he glanced away. "I just hate to see him like . . ." He took Jenny's hands in his, "I just thought the two of you would be married forever, that's all."

"Me too," she whispered.

After a moment, Jed stepped up, "So Scotty, you said you've seen Leo?"

"Yes, Mr. President."

"Well, what do you think?"

"About Leo, Sir?" The President nodded. "I think he's completely and utterly exhausted," Scott answered. "I think he's trying to hide it, to be strong for everyone else, but not for himself. I think that if anything happens to Mallory, he'll go over the edge. I think there won't be enough booze in the world to numb his pain, Sir."

"Yeah. How long did it take you to figure that one out?"

"About as long as it took for him to turn around and face me. About ten seconds, Sir."

"Scotty, what can we do?"

"Sir, I stepped out to see if there was someone who could go to the mess and bring some food back up for him. That would be a start. I know he hasn't eaten recently, which for Leo could be anywhere between four and forty hours. After I get some food in him, I'm going to see if I can find out what's happening with Mallory."

The President glanced to his left. "Josh, Donna, would you come here please?" He turned back to Scotty, "The doctor's been updating us on the hour, but it has been a little longer this time. Maybe they're getting close." Josh and Donna appeared at the President's side. "Donna, Josh, this is Leo's brother, Lieutenant Colonel Scott McGarry, United States Air Force."

"Josh Lyman," he offered a hand.

"Noah Lyman's son, right?" Josh nodded. "Sir, Leo's told me a lot about you over the years. Nice to finally meet you."

"Donna Moss," she said as she followed suit. "You look a lot like Leo," she observed.

"Ma'am, I wouldn't let Leo hear you say that," he smiled.

"Call me Donna, please."

"Yes, Ma'am."

The President chuckled, "Scotty's been in the Air Force too long, Donnatella. You'll never get him to use your first name. Listen, he needs someone to bring some food up from the mess. Would you two mind doing that?"

"Of course not, Sir," Josh answered.

"Scotty, what do you think he'll eat?"

"Well Sir, let's get a variety, let him choose. He needs some sort of quick energy. Let's do some potato salad, baked potato, scalloped, something like that. Pasta, macaroni salad would be good. Roast beef sandwich, chicken salad sandwich, turkey . . . he really likes turkey . . . a vegetable of some sort, broccoli, green beans, whatever is available. Soup maybe. And tomato juice, he loves tomato juice. Or orange juice, apple juice, whatever they've got. Ask if they'll give you a pitcher of water and three glasses of ice. I suspect that if he hasn't been eating, he hasn't been drinking much either. He may be getting dehydrated." He paused for a moment. "Let's stay away from caffeine. Once we know more about Mallory, one way or the other, he'll need to get some rest. Oh, and bring some fruit . . . bananas, apples, pears, grapes if they have them. I think that should be a good start."

"What should we bring for you, Colonel?"

He smiled at the comment, "I'll just eat whatever he doesn't. Thank you."

"We'll be right back. Sir, can we take Charlie? I think this is more food than the two of us can handle."

"Sure, Josh. Charlie, would you help these fine young people find the mess, and bring them back with food?"

"Yes, Sir. Can I get you or the ladies anything?"

"Coffee please," Abbey responded. "Jenny, would you like the gang to bring you anything else?"

"Maybe I can share with Leo and Scotty. I'm afraid that I have some fence mending to do," she admitted as she held Scotty's arm.

He nodded sideways at her with that trademark McGarry grin. "Leo's pretty tough, but a little hand holding will go a long way."

"You're right about that," she laughed despite herself.

The President smiled, "Okay, go on, Charlie."

"Yes, Sir."

Scotty broke in, "Since they're taking care of that little project, I'm going to go see if I can find something out about Mallory."

"Let me go with you," the First Lady offered. "Maybe I can expedite the information."

"Yes, Ma'am."

"That's Doctor Ma'am to you, Airman."

"Yes, Dr. Bartlet, Ma'am," he grinned.


	14. Ch 13 Post Op

Post-Op 

"Leo, Jenny. Mallory's out of surgery," Scotty advised as he re-entered the waiting room.

"And?" Leo asked as he put his glass of juice down.

"She's in rough shape, she lost a lot of blood. They had a tough time because of a tear in her right lung. They thought they might have to remove part of it, but were finally able to control the bleeding. That's what took so long. They were waiting to see if the repairs would hold."

"Is she going to be all right?" Leo asked.

"How she does from here really depends on how her body responds, and quite frankly, her will to live. The next twenty-four to forty-eight hours will be critical, but the doctors are cautiously optimistic about her chances. I guess that she showed 'em something on the table."

"She's a McGarry," the President observed.

Leo turned around to face Jenny. "Yeah, she's an O'Brien, too."

"Yeah. She got stubbornness from both sides."

"Jenny, I'm sorry. It's because of me that this happened. I can't make it right, but I promise I'll try to keep it from happening again," he apologized.

"You can't promise that, Leo," she responded, "and whether you want to believe it or not, this isn't your fault. There are people in this world who have problems and think the only way to solve them is through hurting other people. Mallory knows that, and she'd be the first one to tell you so. She needs you, Leo, so don't let her down." He turned toward the window, trying to hide the tears that had returned. "And whether you know it or not, there are a lot of other people who need you, too."

"That's right," the President chimed in, "so get any ideas you have about taking a leave of absence or, heaven forbid, resigning out of your mind, okay?"

Leo hung his head slightly, then nodded, "Yeah." He swiped at his eyes as he turned back to Mallory's mother. "You know, you raised an incredible daughter, Jenny," he said, reaching for her hand.

"She's her father's daughter," she acknowledged as she squeezed Leo's hand tight. "She loves you more than you'll ever know. Before you went to rehab, she'd come to me and we'd talk, sometimes all night. She understood, Leo. She always knew what we needed, what I needed." Jenny dropped her head slightly, "She knew what you needed, too."

"Yeah, well, until I knew what I needed, nothing was going to change."

"I'm glad you figured it out."

"Me too." He turned to his little brother, "Scotty, did you find out when we can see her?"

"She'll be in recovery for quite a while, then they'll move her to ICU. They said they'd send someone in to let us know when she's settled into her room."

Leo turned to his ex-wife and reached for her once again, "Jenny, when they bring her down, do you want to go see our daughter together?"

For the first time since she'd arrived, Jenny genuinely smiled. "I'd like that."


	15. Ch 14 Welcome Back

**Welcome Back**

They stood in the doorway, watching as the nurse checked their daughter's IV lines, adding several medications through a port on the side. Satisfied with the results, he stepped away and smiled warmly at them as he passed. Mallory lay amidst a sea of monitors and machinery, all beeping and chiming in a steady rhythm. As Leo and Jenny moved to her side, they were struck by how still she was. Their daughter had always been a bundle of energy. In fact, Leo swore she came out running and hadn't stopped since.

Jenny squeezed her ex-husband's hand. Leo looked at her with empathy, knowing exactly how she felt. "It's okay, Jenny. She's gonna be okay."

"She just looks so . . . she looks like she . . . "

". . . Like she's been shot and is lucky to be here," he whispered.

"Oh, Leo, I was so scared that we were going to lose her."

Leo wrapped his arm around Jenny's shoulder and pulled her tight. "Me too, Hon, me too." Jenny reached out to touch her daughter's hand, but stopped, hovering just above it. Sensing the hesitation, Leo took her hand, covering it with his own and gently guided it the rest of the way. He felt Jenny flinch as she touched her daughter's cool skin, "It's okay, Jen. She's a little cold, but that's because of the anesthesia. She'll warm up."

Jenny slowly sank into the chair next to Mallory's bed. After a moment, she reached out to brush a strand of hair off of her daughter's face. "Mallory, it's Mom," she whispered. "Your Dad and I are here with you. We're waiting for you to open your eyes, Baby." When she got no response, Jenny's head slowly lowered to cover Mallory's hand. "Oh, Mal," she cried.

"Shh, shh," Leo soothed. "Jenny, she's gonna be okay. She's tough, remember?" He reached down and stroked Jenny's hair, "Please, Hon, please don't cry. She can hear us, you know." Gradually Jenny's sobs quieted, and she lifted her head.

There was a light tap on the open door, "May we come in?"

Leo turned, "Abbey, Scotty, of course." Noticing the President was missing, Leo asked, "Where's your shadow?"

"Ron wouldn't let him come down this far without a little advance. He'll be here shortly."

"Sure. What was I thinking?"

Abbey smiled knowing exactly where Leo's mind had been. She turned her attention to the bed and motioned, "How's she doing?"

"I don't know, Abbey. She's so still."

"Yeah, her body is still in shock, Leo. The best thing that could happen right now is for her to rest."

"I know, but it's just so hard to see her like this."

"Jenny?" Abbey took her friend's hands in hers.

"Oh, Abbey. I'm so grateful that she's alive, but I'm so angry that she was hurt like this."

"I know what you mean, I was the same way when Zoey was hurt."

Leo turned away from them at the mention of the youngest Bartlet daughter's name. "Leo, don't start. That wasn't your fault, and none of_ this_ is your fault either."

"I really wish I could believe that."

"Are you calling me a liar?" He tucked his head but said nothing. "Leo, I love you very much. And contrary to what you may think, I have forgiven you for what happened to Zoey." He tried to hide the tears that were forming. Abbey reached out and lifted her friend's chin, forcing him to look into her eyes. "Leo? Do you know why I've forgiven you?"

"No," he said softly, dropping his head again.

"Because there's enough blame to go around. Let's start with the kidnappers and, yeah, let's put Jean-Paul right up there with them too. But if you want to expand the list, we have Jed, Charlie, Josh, the Secret Service, not to mention Zoey herself. Hell, I was ready to blame the cook if thought I could get away with it." She smiled, pausing, waiting for her friend to respond. "And last, but certainly not least, I was to blame too," she admitted as her hand moved to his shoulder. "Listen to me, Leo," she tried, but he didn't move. "Come on, Leo, look at me." He slowly raised his head. "You are not only my husband's best friend, you're my best friend too. You have been there through everything with us,_ including_ Zoey's kidnapping. Do you honestly think that Jed would have stepped down and invoked the Twenty-Fifth if you hadn't been in the West Wing? You were the only reason he even considered it. It's you, Leo, you who holds him up. You, and no one else."

He stared at his long-time friend, taking her hand from his shoulder, gently dropping a kiss on it, then holding it over his heart as her words finally registered. "You're his rock, Abbey, not me," he said quietly.

Overcome by his sincerity, she finally reached for him, putting her arms around his shoulders, drawing him into a warm embrace. "Well, I'm the one who gets to come down on him like a rock anyway. And as you well know, punishment usually includes slapping him around a bit," she chuckled. "Many times literally!"

"Hey, if there's any slapping to be done, I'm the one who's gonna do it," the President broke in.

"Good afternoon, Mr. President," Jenny chuckled as she turned to hug him tight.

"Jenny. How you holding up?"

"Hanging in there."

Jed held her hands and smiled, "Yeah. And you?" he asked, turning his attention to his best friend.

"I'm fine," he responded in true Leo-mode.

"Mmm. I can see that."

Leo, ignored the attempted dig, breaking the First Lady's hold. "You know, I never asked you, Sir. How'd the thing go last night?"

"Oh, the State of the Union is intact, and the speech was a success. In fact, Congress loved me, Leo. However, I'm afraid it wasn't even close to my finest performance." The President looked down at his best friend's daughter. "Guess I had a few other things on my mind," he added quietly.

"I guess," Leo agreed.

"How's she doing?"

"Still serious, but they tell us she's stable and improving with each passing hour."

"Well, I guess your prayers were answered, Leo."

"Yeah. Mallory told me just before she hung up yesterday, and then again before she went into surgery to 'keep the faith.'"

"So how's it going so far?"

Leo smiled, "It's been a long time gone, but I'm working on it."

"You never stopped believing, Leo. You just got side-tracked."

"I don't know about that," he shook his head.

"Sure you do. You've prayed every day, your whole life, Leo. You prayed when you were you were a kid, you said a prayer when you went off to Vietnam, every time you climbed into that F-105, when you got married, when Mallory was born, and I know for sure that you prayed when Josh and I were shot at Rosslyn. You get up every day and say that you're not going to drink today – that's a prayer, too. I know you, Leo. You've said many, many prayers over the years."

"Maybe. I'm not so sure He ever really listened."

Jed smiled at his friend and glanced skyward. "He was listening, Leo, but remember what we were taught," he questioned. "All prayers are answered. It's just that sometimes, the answer is 'No.'"

"Yeah."

Suddenly, there was movement from the bed. "Mmm."

"Mal?" Leo moved to his daughter quickly and took her hand in his. "Mal? Open your eyes, Baby," he encouraged.

"Come on, Sweetheart. You can do it. Come back to us," Jenny added, reaching for her daughter's other hand.

"Mmm." Mallory batted her eyes in an effort to focus. "Mom? Dad?" she whispered.

"Hey, Kiddo. How ya doin'?"

"Dad!" She tried valiantly to lift herself off the bed.

"Whoa there! Easy now." Mallory's strength suddenly left her as quickly as it came.

She allowed Leo to gently guide her back to her pillow. "Hurts, Dad."

"I know, Mal. They're giving you stuff for it, but you shouldn't try to move. It won't help. But just in case it's worn off, I'll get the nurse," he said as he started to move to the door.

"Don't leave me, Dad," she pleaded.

"Shhh, shh, okay. I'll call him from here." He reached for the call button that would summon help to his daughter's room, then continued. "Hey, Jed and Abbey, and Uncle Scotty are here too."

"How you doing, Kid?" the President asked.

She tried to look around the room, "Hey, everyone . . . guess this isn't . . . how we all . . . wanted to get . . . together again, huh?"

They chuckled in spite of themselves. "No, Mallory," her mother spoke up. "I think that we would rather have gotten together for something like your birthday."

"Birthday?" Mallory frowned with concentration. "Dad, what day is it?"

"It's Wednesday."

"Your birthday . . . tomorrow . . . sorry for spoiling it. Was gonna get your . . . birthday present in . . . Orlando."

"Wasn't your fault. And you waking up is the only birthday present I need, Mallory," her father said as he brushed a strand hair off her forehead. "Just remember though, you gotta work on getting better, 'cause you owe me a date. You promised to go to dinner with me when you got back, remember?"

She closed her eyes as the morphine began its hold on her once again. "Never left you . . . Dad."

"Thank God for that," Leo smiled as he squeezed her hand.

"See, Leo?" Bartlet grinned.

"Oh, just give it up, would ya?" Leo shook his head, grinning sideways at his friend.

"Never," Jed smiled in return.

Tears began falling down Mallory's cheeks, "Dad, why did this happen? Who would do . . . I don't know . . . what I did to deserve . . . "

"Shh, shh," he comforted. "Listen to me, Baby. Don't think ever think that what happened was your fault in any way, shape, or form. I don't want you to worry about that guy, or anything about the shooting. You're safe now," Leo reassured, as he brushed the tears from her face. "You just take it easy, concentrate on getting better, okay?"

"Yeah." Her eyes began to drift shut. "Dad," Mallory whispered, "would you hold me? You know . . . like you did . . . when I was little?"

Leo was taken aback. He looked at the others in the room for guidance, uncertain of how he should respond. Finally he replied, "Mal, um, I'm not sure the doctors and nurses would appreciate me climbing into bed with you." He gently patted her hand, "I might be in their way or something."

She opened her eyes slightly, "Please, Dad. I need your . . . arms around me . . . to feel safe."

Looking at his daughter's face, seeing the pain in her eyes, Leo finally understood just how much she needed him . . . and just how much he needed her.

Sensing that Mallory and her father wanted to be alone, Abbey suggested, "Why don't we go to the waiting room. I asked that food be brought there because Jed can't go the Mess, and I think it would be a little more private for everyone. Leo, we'll go and let you and Mallory talk."

"Not sure how much talking we'll do, but thanks," he nodded, grateful for the gesture. "Jenny?"

"I'm think I'm going to go lie down for a bit. I'm pretty tired and Abbey's right, you and Mallory need to spend some time together. Alone."

He nodded and dropped a kiss on her cheek. As his family and friends quietly exited, Leo slipped his shoes off and crawled into bed next to Mallory, taking care not to disturb her leg. Lying on his side, he wrapped his arms around his daughter, settling in behind her, letting her head come to rest against his chest. He slowly stroked her hair, like he did when she was three years old and couldn't sleep.

"I love you, Dad," she mumbled as her eyes closed once more.

Leo whispered, "I love you too, Baby." As he traced small circles on her temple, she slowly drifted off, her breathing becoming deep and regular. Leo watched her chest rise and fall, as he reflected on how lucky they both were.

Slowly, Leo became aware of the rhythmic whir of the monitors as his mind replayed the last two days and all they held. In the past 36 hours, a madman had set out to destroy his life, and as a result, his daughter had nearly been taken from him. His relationship with his family and friends, especially Abbey, seemed to be back on track, and most importantly, his little girl was going to be okay. _Thank you for taking care of her. Thank you for restoring my faith . . . _

As he relaxed into sleep, a fleeting thought crossed his mind. At some point, he had to figure out what was going with Tommy and the whole Clemmons mess. _But I can't think about that right now,_ he scolded himself. He was completely exhausted, and it was really warm in the bed next to Mallory. Finally, it was all too much to resist. His eyelids became slits, then closed as he followed his daughter down into blissful sleep, safe in the knowledge that for tonight, if only for tonight, no one could touch his family.

TBC in **Family Matters**


End file.
